What a Brother! What a Bother!
by Kopanda
Summary: Scotland and England's relationship. Sorry no pairings but it's heavily implied. Rated for England and Scotland's potty mouths, fighting, kissing and France. A collection of stories from one-shots to long stories. Some angst, some humour and some fluffy.
1. Story 1 Chapter 1

**Better bruises than scars.**

America strolled down the street, eager to get to his destination. The pavement was still damp from an earlier rain shower. It always seemed to rain here. Well, that was England for you.

America rounded a corner and a small, rose covered cottage came into sight. This was the home of his old friend, England.

He grinned excitably, swinging the plastic white bag filled to the brim with cheap junk food, as he strolled towards the house.

He jumped over the front gate, rather than going through it. If England saw him, he would be scolded but he didn't care. He thumped on the door loudly with his knuckles.

"Yo England! Guess who, Dude?" He was taught by England to always knock on a door before entering but if England didn't answer within the first 30 seconds then America would just barge in anyway. After barely 10 seconds, America pushed on the door, forcing it open with his crazy strength.

The door felt like it had already been forced open as one of its hinges was already broken. He thought that seemed a little strange.

He stopped suddenly, sniffing the air curiously. It smelled different from usual. It smelled smoky….

He wandered a little farther down the hallway, expecting England to charge out and scold him for coming in and breaking his door without permission but when no angry English man appeared he began to sense that something might be wrong.

He made his way into the kitchen and frowned when he saw an ashtray, filled with used cigarettes. England didn't smoke.

America looked around the kitchen, leaving the plastic bag on a counter top. The place wasn't messy, it never was with England's need to be clean and tidy, but everything seemed out of balance as if someone had went around, touching things or moving things on purpose.

He heard movement from the living room and headed in that direction. He could already guess who he would see when he rounded the door but he still wasn't sure what he would find but he knew that it might be bad.

He stopped in the door way and stared into the living room. The room looked someone had tried their hardest to destroy as much as they could.

A mirror was smashed from a punch and several books were torn in half through the spine and thrown onto the floor. Some pillows had been ripped open. A vase of roses was sideways, spilling out water and flowers everywhere. The flowers and other things were stomped on repeatedly.

A man stood in the middle of it all, staring out of a window. He took a deep breath of his cigarette and released the smoke seconds later. He obviously hadn't noticed the blond American staring at him. The smoke travelled slowly up pass his emerald eyes which were always noticeably greener than England's. It pushed up pass his fiery red hair, which clashed with his bright eyes, before disappearing into the air. His blue uniform stood out and he changed the weight from his left foot to his right.

He looked up suddenly, noticing that someone was watching him. He frowned in displeasure before suddenly smirking. It was a cruel smirk that looked down on the young American.

"Ahhh…. If it isnae the wee bampot bairn. Looking fer England?" He paused as if waiting for an answer and took a puff of his cigarette. America just stared frowning but almost angry.

"Lucky fer ya. I was just leaving. See ya soon, wee broth" He waved at the sofa with the hand which held the cigarette, scattering ash everywhere. The sofa was turned away from the door, and therefore America, but it was clear that England was lying there, probably bruised and battered.

The Scotsman brushed past America, being sure to slam his shoulder hard with his own. The American stumbled back a little, mainly to give the green-eyed man more room. The Scotsman took a right and headed down the hallway towards the door. America watched him, suddenly calling out without even thinking.

"Why?..." Scotland stopped but didn't turn back.

"Whut?" He snapped impatiently and America looked flustered and sounded a bit lost and confused.

"I said 'Why?'! Why do you do this?" The Scotsman made to turn his head and look at the blue-eyed man directly but stopped himself. He stared at the door a moment, looking like he was pondering what to say. He reached up and scratched his back, almost massaging it or rubbing it in thought with his free hand. He snuffed out his cigarette in a close by plant pot.

"Becuse I can…." He slammed out the door and left noisily, with his hand still on his back.

America walked over slowly to the sofa, after Scotland had left. He peered over the edge and frowned hard as he stared door at a semi-conscious England.

His uniform was messed up and dirtied from dirt from some of the surround smashed plant pots. His left eye was red and slightly swollen, and clearly going to be a bad black eye. His cheek was red from a slap or a punch. His nose was bleeding heavily and blood was smeared messily across his face. His limbs were sprawled out messily as if thrown onto the sofa by someone else. He opened his one good eye and smiled slightly.

"Didn't I tell you not to come today, wanker?" He said it quietly and in an almost sweet way. America didn't know what to say.

England tried to push himself up into a sitting position and groaned loudly. He stumbled backwards, panting like a dog that needed water, after America pushed down his palm gently to stop the battered nation from stressing out his body more.

"What the hell do you think you are doing, you git?" He said angrily but it sounded so weird with how weak his voice was in comparison to what he was saying. America sighed.

"Just tell me where the first aid kit is." The blond country looked at him in a glare that looked painful which soon disappeared.

"Top, left cupboard in the kitchen…" He said grudgingly but despite his frowning and sighing, America knew he was secretly pleased at the help.

After wiping up England's face and placing an ice pack on his eye and some bandages on his bad bruises, the green-eye country sat up so his wounds on his torso could be taken cared off. He gingerly removed his shirt, wincing when he bumped his arm against his stomach. America began to wipe any red or inflamed areas on his back.

They were surprisingly less than he thought there would be. Scotland obvious knew how to throw a punch so it hurt a lot but didn't leave a mark. Or if it did, not a big one. He was a little impressed by it actually.

"Hmmm… me too…" America paused, not realising that he had voiced his opinion out loud.

"You shouldn't let him hit you, you know…." England sighed and turned around to look at him with his green eyes. He was smiling, his eyes looked sad but he was still smiling. America frowned at this with a small pout. "I'm being serious." England sighed softly but still kept on smiling. He was also looking out of the window Scotland had been staring out of.

"I know…. But I don't mind it if it's today…." America moved around to the front and began wiping there.

"Well, you should!" He was really annoyed with England's submissive attitude. Usually England would fight back when Scotland got too violent but today it seemed like he just stood there and accepted every blow.

"It's okay." America fumed, turning slightly red in the face.

"Okay? It's not okay! Look at all these bruises!"

"Better bruises than scars…"

He answered simply in a quiet voice. America stopped in his tracks again and looked over England's body more closely. It was pale, probably from lack of any sun in this rainy country thought America, but had no permanent marks. No scars. America shook his head, confused by the Briton's words.

"I don't understand what you mean."

"16th of April…."

"Huh?"

"That's the date. 16th of April…." America rolled his eyes as he finished his first aid.

"Did Scotland hit something loose cause you're not making any sense." England just smiled slightly and pulled on his shirt again.

"It doesn't matter I guess…."

He buttoned his shirt, standing up and wincing slightly. "So do you want some tea while you are here?" America perked up suddenly.

"No but I forgot why I came! I totally bought some amazing snacks for us to eat!" England raised an eyebrow. "Junk food?" "There's nothing junk about my food!" England rolled his eyes.

"Fine. I'll make the coffee and tea and you prepare the food."

"Sure Dude! But snacks don't need any preparation so I'm already finished my part."

England scowled. "Get out two plates out then."

"Okay!" The two made their way into the kitchen to eat the junk food (sorry – I mean 'snack' food) that America had brought around earlier.

**(A/N - lol summiting this gave me the giggles. Because I'm lazy at writing full titles I just use the first letter of each word to make them shorter. So "What a brother. What a bother." became... *giggles maniacally to self*... WabWab! Lol - it's not even that funny!**

**Anyway - this whole thing is mainly about Scotland and England's relationship, so some bits will be fluff, some will be funny and some will be down right sadistic! This first bit is going to be angsty and violent though. The whole fan fic will (hopefully) be a small collections of different stories (different lengths - some one shots and some a couple of chapters) showing different aspects of their relationship. REVIEW AND SEND IN SUGGESTIONS! Though I already have a vague plan.**

**BTW - I'm scottish but I will TRY to be unbiased... Except towards America... I visited there last year and loved the heat. What I didn't love was that someone thought Scotland wasn't a real place... *sigh!*...**

**BTW.2 -**

**Fer - for**

**ya - you**

**If it isnae the wee bampot bairn - roughly - If it isn't the small stupid/idiot child**

**Broth - brother (cause scotiish people are too lazy to make whole english word)**

**becuse - because (another prime example of laziness on Scotland's behalf...)**

**I promise a better next chapter (hopefully) and France with his accent! Though I'm dreading that part...)**


	2. Story 1 Chapter 2

**Cheering up Scotland.**

France peeked his head around the door, wrinkling his nose at the dinginess of the small Scottish pub. He browsed the pub for the familiar mess of scarlet hair that belonged to his best friend. He sighed when he recognised no one in the busy pub. He closed the door again and sighed, looking out on the street. This was the 8th bar that he had checked today and he still hadn't found Scotland.

"L' Ecosse… Where are you hiding today?..." He tapped his foot impatiently.

He lifted his head to see two Scottish ladies stopping to look at the strange blonde man. He winked and blew a kiss at them. They giggled before rolling their eyes and walking away. He sighed. You never knew how Scottish women would act when you flirted with them. Some would return the gesture, some would ignore it and some would just punch him in the face. In a way, they resembled the country they came from well.

He became walking down the street, wondering where he would find the elusive Scotsman. He paused by a window and stared into another pub. "This place was littered with ze bars, it's almost as bad as L' Irlande…"

He glanced at a paper calendar in the corner of the window, flinching at the date. "Ze 16th?" He looked around worried. If that was today's date then Scotland was going to be difficult today. "At least I know where L'Ecosse is hiding now…" He pondered whether or not it was worth trying to talk to Scotland today.

Finally after a few minutes of thinking, he decided he might as well visit and try to talk to the stubborn country. "If he doesn't knock me out first, of course. Ohohohoho." He laughed as he remembered the reason why Scotland had beaten him into unconciousness last time. Let's just say it included England, alcohol and a skimpy maid's outfit that France had ordered specially on line.

England had fewer bars and pubs than Scotland so it would be easy to find the red-headed man. France, however, already knew which pub Scotland would be in. It was always the closest one to England's house.

He pushed open and looked around the near empty bar.

It was very different from a Scottish one. In Scotland, the bars would have a loud TV, featuring golf, football or rugby, competing with the sound of the noisy Scotsmen who drank merrily after work. It was always happy and loud in a bar but it only took one word to turn it into a huge brawl that would eventually be broken up by some passing police.

An English bar, on the other hand, would usually be empty though unless a major sports match or event was on. And when there was, it would start off quiet before the alcohol took effect and then it would resemble a tamer Scotland's or in some cases Ireland's pubs. No fighting, of course.

The Frenchman grinned when he saw the back of a ginger man in the corner. The few English men who had come out for a drink were clearly avoiding the near murderous atmosphere that hung around the glaring Scotsman who sipped on a cup of black coffee.

"L'Ecosse! Iz this where you have been hiding?" He yelled cheerily across the bar. Scotland turned his head, glaring with his piercing green eyes. His eyes narrowed even more when he saw the blonde man waving enthusiastically at him and his frown deepened. Already determined not to pay any heed to the unhappy nation's glare, France made his way through the bar and plopped himself down on a chair facing him.

He ignored the sour look on his face. "Euuh! Glaring won't scare me off." He smiled as Scotland continued shooting daggers at him.

"Aye but a punch might!" He snapped. The Frenchman merely laughed. He smiled sadly at the country.

"I take it that you have already zeen L'Angeterre?..." He nodded his head curtly.

"Aye."

"Is he alright?"

"Hosed." France leaned back in his chair uncomfortably. He looked at the coffee curiously.

"Irish?"

"Nar. Just a plain black." France raised one small blonde eyebrow.

"Just noir? No whisky?" Scotland didn't answered but strummed two fingers on the table impatiently.

"No cigarette either? L'Ecosse, I hope you are not ill." He said this in a teasing way, hoping to get a small smile from him. Scotland just turned his head to the side, facing away from France. France sighed internally.

Scotland was usually an 'interesting' person to be around but every year on this day, he would just totally shut down. He knew why Scotland did this but France was always determined to try and cheer him up or at least get him to talk. This year seemed a little easier than previous years though. At least Scotland was answering some of his questions.

"Why don't we have a nice drink? I hear zat have nice rhum here." Scotland just placed his half empty coffee cup on the table and sighed.

"Na…." France shifted in here chair, looking at a stain on the wood of the table.

He looked up again in surprise when the Scotsman continued. "Drinking is fer celebrating. Gitting hammered when yer are doon is wasteful." France looked at Scotland, examining his expression as it stared at the wall. He really was different from England who would drink to forget his sadness (or to try and trick America into becoming drunk and spilling secrets.).

"Oui. I guess zat makes zense."

Scotland finished his coffee in a couple of more gulps. He touched his pocket as if he was going to take something out but stopped. He looked up at the Frenchman and studied his face for a few moments. France was obviously uncomfortable trying to deal with the irritable country.

"Oi!" The blue eyed country looked at him, shocked that he was starting a conversation instead of sulking and glaring at everyone. "Yer got any smokes?"

"A cigarette?"

"Aye. A cigarette." He sounded impatient. The Frenchman noticed the empty ash tray.

"You have none yourself?" This was surprising as it was well known that the nation had a near endless supply on his person at all times. Scotland sighed angrily.

"Nae or I wouldnae be asking!" The French man scratched his scraggly chin, thoughtfully.

"Mayze…." Scotland gritted his teeth, trying to restrain himself. "How ze bout you have a drink with me and mayze I will give vous un cigarette." France held his breath and crossed his fingers under the table. If Scotland said no then the red head would just get up and leave angrily but if he said yes… well at least once he has had a bit of alcohol, he will probably want more and if he was lucky, Scotland would be more open and like his regular self by the evening.

Scotland glared at him, trying to assess the reason for the blonde's request. His fingers itched to hold something between them and he was beginning to feel the withdrawal effects from the lack of nicotine. He had limited himself to one packet of cigarettes today and was now feeling worse because of it. His last cigarette was at England's house a couple of hours ago. He relented after a while.

"Aye… aye…" France burst into a huge grin.

"Oui! Zat's the L'Ecosse I know!" Scotland rolled his eyes and raised his hand lazily into the air.

"A pint of lager…."

"And un glass of ze wine!" Scotland sounded annoyed at the thought of drinking today. Rather than putting his hand down again, he reached back and rubbed his back again. France noticed that he touched or massaged his back a lot on this day or when he was under a lot of stress. He also knew why. He had only seen the Scot's back a couple of times and it was clear while he was hesitant to show it off or why he touched it when very worried.

Scotland had gulped down the pint quickly and slammed the empty glass on the table. He wiped his mouth with the black of his glove and sighed, half content and half sad. France raised an eyebrow at the speed in which he had devoured his drink. "Another one?"

"Aye. Plus ma cigarettes." France nodded to the barman who began filling another glass. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes which he tossed lazily at the red-head. He caught it easily, pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He took a deep puff on the cigarette like he had a lack of air and this was his first breath in a while. He made a small 'ahhh' sound. France smiled. Scotland wasn't glaring at him anymore but he still frowned heavily.

"So L'Ecosse. Are you feeling better?" A steady annoyed green glare answered that question. "How is L'Angleterre?" He knew he had already asked this earlier but he was hoping for a better answer than just 'Hosed.' Scotland paused and took another breathe of his cigarette. He looked uncomfortable now that he wasn't angrily looking at him.

"Hosed."

"More than just 'Hosed' mon cher. Will he be able to go to ze world meeting next month?"

"Aye. He'll be okay by next week though he will be a tad sore." France leaned forward to look closer at Scotland and his reactions.

"No marks then?" Scotland shifted his weight at the question, clearly not liking where this was going but his voice was still steady.

"Nae…. I donnae like leaving marks." He snuffed out his cigarette and pulled out a second one and lit it. France smiled slightly.

"Still can't do it, non?" Scotland looked sharply at him, his annoyance and anger returning.

"Nae. I still cannae leave any scars!…." France smiled more.

"So you do still love him?" Scotland choked slightly on his cigarette.

"Whut?"

"You adore your younger brother." He sang. The French man smiled in victory.

"He's a wee galoot!" Scotland was almost shouting.

"He's still your petit frère though." Scotland grumbled some exotic language under his breath and the blue-eyed man chuckled.

The second pint was placed on the table and Scotland eyed it up. He always tried not to drink when upset in case he said something revealing but he was dying for a decent drink but coffee was only making his mood sourer. France saw his indecisiveness. He urged the nation to drink silently in his head. France took a sip of his red wine, making a contented sigh, hoping to show Scotland that drinking is good. 

**( A/N - Don't listen to France kids. Alcohol is poison. Good tasting poison and great fun at parties but still poison. It will kill you. So no Drinking!... Unless you are over 18 and really want to… or 21 in America. Lol – you can have sex, use guns and smoke by the time you are 18 but you can't start drinking until you are 21? What do you guys have against beer? Anyway – No alcohol, it's dangerous. And a poison)**

Scotland sighed irritated and grabbed the pint. France smiled and leaned back in his chair as the alcohol disappeared down the red-head's throat.

About 8 empty beer glasses later, and 6 wine glasses on France's behalf, and Scotland had begun talking like normal. France was enjoying this time with his friend, though every now and again the country would go into a mood when France said something that made Scotland think about the date, and was impossible to get out until the subject was changed or another drink was brought out.

"So L'Ecosse. Did she really say zat?"

"Aye! The lassie was bonnie but a big crabit! Throwing a huge radge just cause I wouldnae buy her a swally!" The Frenchman laughed heartily. He was one of the few countries that could understand the Scotsman's heavy accent.

"Oui! Zat is just like you mon cher!" Scotland joined in the laughter. The gentle patter of rain on the window was drowned out by their loud voices.

**(A/N - French accents are so hard! I hate them a little now. I think I killed France! (his accent anyway...) But I loved doing the Scottish one! Usually I have to edit the way I say things so the world can understand me but now i can type freely. Unfortunatly I have the feeling I am going to have to translate it into regular english... :L Might as well do it any way! Thpugh most can probably guess.**

**Scottish to English speaking world translations!**

**Hosed - Broken, battered, drunk, beat up (you get the idea)**

**Fer - For**

**Yer - your**

**Aye - yes (used surprisingly more than you think)**

**Irish (when talking about coffee) - a black coffe with whiskey in it. (blame Ireland.)**

**Gitting hammered when yer are doon is wasteful - Getting drunk when you are sad is pointless**

**Donnae - don't**

**Cannae - can't**

**Wannae - want**

**Nae, Na, Nar , Nee - No (it's a little amazing how many works we have for no..)**

**Whut - What (usually how we say it annoyed and angryily)**

**Ma - my (Ma bonnie flew over the ocean. Ma bonnie flew over the sea. Ma bonnie flew over the ocean so bring back ma bonnie to me. - everytime I say ma this song comes into my head!)**

**Wee - small, tiny, short etc.**

**Galoot - clumsy, cluzt, idiot or all three**

**Aye! The lassie was bonnie but a big crabit! Throwing a huge radge just cause I wouldnae buy her a swally! - Yeah! The girl was pretty but very irritable! She started acting like a mad man because I wouldn't but her a drink. (raise your hand if you couldn't understand what Scotland said here without this guide! I know you are out there!)**

**We also pronouced our 'a's differently too. Most of our 'a's sound like Day without the D (basically ay) while England's 'a's sound more like Ah. So Scotland - Ay and England - Ah.**

**I feel so multi-lingal now despite being barely able to speak french. I can't be bother translating any french words but they should be easier than Scotland's. Did I mention my hatred for writing down the French accent before. It's so hard! Please Review!)**


	3. Story 1 Chapter 3

**A Bar Brawl.**

America ran down the street with his jacket over his head. The weather's sudden turn into a down pour had surprised the American who had left his umbrella at home. Everyone around him held an umbrella as some as the first drop fell, clearly prepared for the country's eccentric weather.

He sighed as he turned into the closest bar, shaking the water from his hair. He paused and looked around when he heard loud laughter throughout the usually quiet English pub. He saw France in stitches in the back corner facing another man. His anger from earlier re-surfaced as he recognised the ginger mess of hair and blue uniform.

He stomped over to the table, determined to express his anger at the older country. France who could see America come in the door, paled. Scotland raised his eyebrow at the blonde's sudden change of mood. He looked over his shoulder to see the cause of France's distress. A hard glare returned to his face and he frowned as he saw the country walk towards them, clearly annoyed at the American's choice to come over instead of just leaving.

America stopped and stood over the two sitting nations, ignoring France and focusing his wrath at the green-eyes country. Scotland just snuffed out his cigarette bud.

France tried to smile. He and America had no feuds between them and occasionally got on quite well but Scotland was another matter. He had just spent the last 2 hours trying to cheer up the country, only to have America but in and mess up his plan.

"Ahh… Amerique! You are looking well!" America glanced at France and nodded.

"I'm doing fine. Unlike England!" He snapped, glaring at Scotland again who was steadily staring at the window. He looked back at the country when he raised his voice at him. His voice was annoyed when he spoke to America.

"And yer wannae say sumfing aboot it?"

"Yeah! I do! He's your brother!"

"Aye. And?" America's face turned red and he slammed his hands on the table. A huge crack appeared through the centre of the table. Scotland looked at the crack, mildly amused by America's strength but still a bit annoyed at him.

"You can't just go around beating up your brother! Heros shouldn't do that!" France was silent, watching the fight unfold. He knew Scotland was an experience fighting but America was ridiculously strong.

If this became a fight, both would be going home in an ambulance. He was tempted to call England to stop the fight even though he knew that the country would be in a poor state but it would be necessary if this continued.

Scotland got to his feet, looking down at the blonde country who was only a couple of cm shorter than himself.

"But what if I ain't the hero? What if I'm the villain?" He grinned suddenly, in that cold sadistic smile that Scotland used when he was being cruel. His tone became a mocking one as he looked down on the blonde country. "So what if I wanntae beat up ma wee bro?"

"I will stop you then." America stared confidently at him and Scotland was amused by the young country's guts and couldn't help but grin wider. "Aye? Is that right?" "Yes. It is." The glaring between the two countries, created a stand-off between them.

Scotland raised an eyebrow, curious to how much he could say before America became violent. 'Probably not a lot, judging by how red his face is.'

France used this silence to spoke up. "Why don't we take a zeat and have ze talk over a drink?" Both countries ignored him and continued the stare contest.

America broke the silence first. "Why?" He demanded angrily, completely different from the way he had asked earlier. Scotland smiled slightly.

"Becuse I can…" America snapped and threw a punch at the red head. It collided with his jaw. Scotland stumbled backwards in surprise at the sudden powerful punch. He stood up again, rubbing his jaw a little.

"If yer are gonnae fight, yer are gonnae have ta punch harder than that!" He sounded cocky, despite the mark on his face from the punch.

America fumed.

Scotland smirked, pushing farther for another reaction from America. "I donnae know what yer are so worked up aboot. The man's a gurnie and an erse! A worthless bassa!"

France sighed as he watched Scotland tease and provoke the teenage nation. 'Oh well… as long as Scotland doesn't become serious, this shouldn't be too bad… He will probably just dodge America's attacks and wait for the boy to tire out… We might be here a while though….'

America lashed out again but Scotland ducked out of the way from the obvious blow. He gave a light punch to America's cheek. America flinched from the blow. He wasn't used to being hit in the face.

"Where are you aiming?" Scotland laughed as he dodged another senseless punch.

America's punches were all emotion and no aim, easy to predict and dodge as long as the nation was too angry to think and Scotland was calm enough to think.

America paused to regain his breath while Scotland stood there, hardly fazed by the multiple blows which he had dodged.

He continued smirking cockily and looking down on the country, but his smile never reached his eyes. They still remained cold and harsh but did not show any anger to his surprise.

"Gubbed already? Onnae a bairn in the end. Yer erse is oot the windae if that's the best you can fight!" Scotland mocked him loudly; although America couldn't understand some of the words he knew that they were insults.

"Shut up!"

"A fussy, wee bairn too. Yer as bad as England!"

America yelled again. "Shut up!"

"Both boggin' wankas!"

"I said shut up!" Scotland flinched at the volume which America's screams had reached. "Stopping hitting England! Just cause you hate each other! Stop it! Just cause he loves me more!" (Angry people – especially men- say stupid things when angry. Very stupid things – that's why America seems so OOC here. Cause he is angry)

Scotland jolted visibly at this as if slapped. France groaned internally. He stared at Scotland, waiting for the words to sink in.

"Oh Amerique… Zat was a foolish thing to say…" He muttered to himself. He knew that Scotland would react badly to this and start throwing himself into the fight seriously. Once that happened, then he would be forced to call England.

Scotland's eyes change from his harsh, mocking eyes that could only look down on the blonde nation into something entirely different. They showed pure, uncensored loathing, completely different from his previous look which only look at the American as an annoyance. His eyes were like a wild animal's eyes, barely containing the rage that boiled silently in them.

America flinched at the sudden change in the eyes and the huge surge of negative and angry emotions that the Scot emitted through them. He gritted his teeth. He refused to cringe or run away, simply because Scotland was mad. He was a Hero! He has to stand up to bad guys.

He lunged forward again and to his surprise the green-eyed man didn't move. The punch hit his upper cheek but Scotland didn't react to it. He just glared at America, unmoving, no longer mocking or teasing, just furious. America retracted his fist and stared in surprise at the man.

"Huh?"

France stood up, deciding to take action before Scotland did.

"L'Ecosse! Amerique! Why don't we calm down and have us ze water. Maybe ze talk?"

A rage filled glance from Scotland silenced him quickly and France took a step back.

"Wheesht!" He sounded gruff like he needed water or had just woken up.

France cringed noticeably and he looked very worried or afraid. He pulled his attention back to the American.

America was more annoyed and angry with Scotland's new attitude than his old mocking one but he couldn't help but be confused and worried by Scotland's sudden change and France's worry at it.

"Why are you suddenly quiet dude? Did I touch a nerve?" America had taken advantage of the unresponsive nation's silence to insult Scotland back.

"Amerique!" France snapped, trying to get him to be quiet but America ignored him.

"Are you angry that I said Engalnd lov- !" His sentence was interrupted by a strong punch to the nose. America swung back on instinct and a blow hit the Scotsman on the jaw. Scotland grunted from pain. He readjusted his jaw, popping it back into place. America's counter had dislocated his jaw.

America was inhumanly strong, a lot stronger than Scotland. In a test of power, it would be an easy victory for the blonde. But this wasn't a test of power, it was a fight.

Scotland had something the young nation lacked and that was experience in one to one fights. While America just swung around his powerful fists, Scotland would try to dodge or hit weak points. He could easily avoid punches if he wasn't serious about the fight and didn't try to punch back but now that Scotland was fighting back, dodging would be a lot harder.

He was confident enough to dodge most punches of the blonde's punches but one of America's blows was like 20 normal punches. He had to be carefully to not get hit; it would take only a couple of punches to knock him down.

America rushed forward with a fist which Scotland ducked under, dealing a punch to the American's stomach. Scotland's punch was strong for a normal person but still a lot weaker than America's. He knew that he would have to punch America a lot before the country went down.

America's fist swung down but Scotland had already shifted his weight and dodged the fist. He was angry at the lack of hits he was getting in comparison to Scotland. Scotland had managed to hit him a couple of dozen times while he had only managed to get in 4 good hits.

Scotland was a good fighter and could take a punch but it was clear that America's blows were very dangerous to him. Scotland's punches may hurt a little but he could handle them.

The fight had only started 5 minutes ago and was mainly just swinging fists around. France was sitting in the corner on his phone, and appeared to be texting frantically.

One of America fist went wide, causing him to go off balance a little. Scotland stare this and took advantage of this, hooking his foot on the back of his knee, tipped the American over so he fell backwards. America fell against a table, which was crushed under his weight and was smashed in half. America was half standing now. America rubbed the back of his head. It felt sticky, hot and wet.

"Owww!..." His head was bleeding. "That was unfair!"

Scotland kicked America's knee again and he stumbled backwards.

"This is a bar brawl! This isnnae a fight or a war! There isnnae any rules!" Scotland yelled at him.

America straightened his back and attacked him again.

Scotland was fighting wildly now, not just punching but trying to take down the blonde completely. He tried to elbow, kick, knee, bite or anything to cause America pain.

His defence was weaker now, as his fighting became more vicious.

America managed to hit the ginger man in the ribs hard and felt a few cracking sounds under his knuckle as the ribs broke like pencils.

Scotland coughed violently as he flopped to the ground.

France looked startled and fearful for his friend.

The Scotsman however ignored the pain and broken bones and tackled America to the ground. The fight seemed more like wrestling now.

Scotland could not dodge many attacks on the floor but America had difficulties actually thrown any punches. Scotland was a good wrestler; he could easily stop all of America's movements. Strength means nothing when you are in a lock. But Scotland didn't want to just defeat America or win the fight; he wanted to hit the young country until he felt satisfied.

This meant that the fight was going to last longer and get more bloody though.

**(A/N - Uhh... I'm a little bad at fight scenes so you will just have to imagine the punching, the blood, the angry grunting from men hitting each other repeatably and rolling around on the floor... Hehehehehe - dirty thought... *smacks self since I should be writing and not imagining these things* Sorry... Hetalia does that to me. *Wipes away nose bleed***

**I can't be bother adding another translation table for this chapter. It has not a lot of writing and most of the words are obvious or were mentioned in the last one.**

**PLEASE REVIEW!)**


	4. Story 1 Chapter 4

**Missing Scotland.**

France sighed and glanced at the fight anxiously. He could see splashes of red. He had texted England 30 minutes ago and the pub was only 10 minutes from his house.

He heard a loud thump as Scotland managed to elbow America in the nose, starting a nose bleed. Both looked like they might need to go to hospital after this. Scotland's bottom lip had just burst. He was really worried for him and America.

They seemed equal in a fight so far but Scotland was tiring and he was beginning to be affected by the few of America's blows that managed to hit their mark.

America had a lot more injuries but far less serious ones, mainly bruises.

France knew that Scotland had given up on winning and only wanted to hit America until he passed out. He just wanted to take out all his anger, all his pain, out on the blonde who he found so annoying.

The door swung opened and a pale dirty blonde with bandaged face and a black eye stumbled in weakly, holding an umbrella but still somehow angry looking and intimidating.

"France, you git! What the hell do you mean by 'Ze beginnings of War World 3 are hap-"

He stopped when he caught sight of the two brawling nations crashing into view. They slammed into a chair, knocking it over as they wrestled on the ground.

France waved at him, across the bar. "Angleterre! Stop zem!"

England stumbled, limping quite heavily up to the bar so he could lean on it. He was in his PJs and slippers and France could see lots of bandages wrapping parts of his body. He was amazed the English man could move, let alone walk here in the rain.

England knew he had to stop the fight.

He reached over the bar, muttering some censored language as the wood dug into his stomach. He grabbed a glass and filled it shakily with water from the soda hose. (Or whatever you call those squirty things)

He flung the water over the fight.

Scotland, who was on top trying to punch America in the mouth, looked up and snarled like an animal.

His eyes were a livid green that seemed to glow with rage; it reminded England of the old wild Scotland who resembled an animal more than a human. The Scotland who roamed around the hills, hunting and living off of the land, the 'free' Scotland. His heart ached at the sight.

Scotland's green eyes dulled back to their regular eye colour as he recognised the bruised blonde. France watched silently as the fury filled green faded instantly into cold emotionless emeralds, slightly impressed but mainly concern. There was quite a bit of blood mixed in with the water. America looked sharply up at England.

"Dude? What was that for?"

Scotland looked back at America remembering that he was there. Scotland rolled off the blonde and stood up.

He wobbled when he stood up and France stepped forward to support him but Scotland held up his hand to stop him.

America sat up and glared at the red head.

The red head didn't look back at him, instead he stared at England. He spat out a bit of blood to the side. England didn't look at him, he looked at the ground as if ashamed or embarrassed, pretending not to see Scotland glaring at him.

America tried to stand up but slipped on the blood and water on the floor. He glared between England and Scotland.

"Leave him alone dude!" Scotland glanced at America.

"Duin do bheul eejit! Thu eil mi 'tuigsinn! "

The three counties looked in surprise as Scotland began speaking Gaelic. He rarely spoke his language in front of anyone except for Ireland and Wales.

America looked confused, not recognising the language.

France just shrugged, showing he recognised his friend's language but didn't know how to speak Gaelic either.

England just continued staring at the ground, leaning against the bar.

Scotland huffed. He turned and headed for the door into the bathroom. He spun around too fast and almost fell over. France ran over to support his friend. Scotland slapped away his hand.

"Ná bain dom!"

France looked really hurt to be rejected by Scotland like this. He stumbled from hitting away the helping hand and France instinctually reached out to catch him again. This time though, Scotland didn't just knock away his hand, he shoved the Frenchman with his remaining strength so that the blonde stumbled aback a few steps.

"NÁ BAIN DOM!"

He yelled before knocking over a nearby table angrily. He stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door loudly. There was the sound of wood cracking, showing that he had probably broken the door.

England sighed while France just stared at the door. America managed to stand up and began walking to the bathroom, wanting to finish the fight. "Amerique!" France pulled America back away from the bathroom.

"Hey dude! Quit defending him! He deserves this!"

"Non!"

"Yes! I'm going to beat him!"

"Vous are not thinking clearly!"

"But it's his fault Dude!"

"No. It isn't Scotland's fault." America and France turned surprised at England's sudden comment in their fight. France scowled at him.

"Oui! Zit's thiz foolish Angleterre's fault!"

"Be quiet Frogface! You just left him too, you git! This is not all my fault!" France didn't argue back to America's surprise. He looked at the toilet's door in a sad way, he look like he regretted something badly.

"Wait up dudes! What are you talking about?" England sighed irritated at the lack of America's knowledge. France shook his head. America huffed.

"Seriously! What are you talking about?" England just shook his head.

"I'll tell you after we give you some first aid." America looked started and looked at his reflection in the water on the floor.

He looked like Crap with a capital C. He nose was bleeding and the blood was smeared against his face. His face was red and swollen from repeated hits. His blonde hair was matted with the blood flowing from the injury on the back of his head.

"Oh…." England rolled his eyes and winced slightly. The bar man who had gone into hiding at the beginning of the fight, came out of the back room with a first aid kit.

"Here you go old chap. I didn't want to disturb the fight but this might help." He placed the first aid kit on the bar.

"I would help the angry red head first though. His injuries seemed much worse than this man's." He glared at the American, obviously blaming him for starting the fight.

"I think he might have broken his knuckle and a couple of ribs. Most of the blood seems to be his as well." The barman seemed really concerned for Scotland's health.

America just huffed stubbornly before swaying. France lifted out his hands and caught the young nation. England grabbed the first aid kid and limped over to the nearest table. France dragged the semi-conscious blonde to the table. France checked America's injuries.

"Don't worry Angleterre. Zit's just ze head wound zat is bad. Ze doesn't appear to have a large blood lost. Mainly bruises. And a broken nez. " England nodded, preparing the first aid kit. France held the America in place who seemed to be glaring at the bathroom.

"America! Pay attention!" England snapped. He sounded really tired and weak. The barman brought over some warm water and towels. He glanced at the bathroom.

"Don't worry. Once we bandage America's head, we will help him."

"Oui. He only has a small cut on the back of ze head, a broken nose and some bruises."

America grumbled loudly as England washed the blood from his hair.

"Ow! That hurts dude!"

"Well don't get into fights you wanker!"

America rolled his eyes and washed his face with one of the towels.

His nose was no longer bleeding. His jacket needed a wash and so did his trousers, after being sprayed with the blood and water from the fight.

France left with some of the supplies to go and check up on Scotland in the bathroom.

England wrapped a long stretch of cloth bandage around and around his head tightly, stopping the bleeding. He placed a special plaster on his nose, to help the nose heal faster.

"There. We can sort out the bruises later at my house."

A loud wail from the bathroom made the two blondes turn their heads. France ran out.

"Angleterre! Amerique! L'Ecosse has vanished!"

**(A/N - Yay cliff hangers! I have been told to change the layout of my storys to make it gramatically correct. and easier to read. Thanks for the review and the tip. I'm going to do that. AKA - I'm going to have a new paragraph for each time someone different speaks! YAY!... Unfortunatly i'm going to have to go back and change all my previous stories and chapter... See I do read your reviews and take them into serious consideration. I might use some of them too, like this one. SO REVIEW!**

**Gaelic translations (Scottish Gaelic)**

**Duin do bheul eejit! Thu eil mi 'tuigsinn! - Shut your mouth idiot! You don't understand!**

**Ná bain dom! - Don't touch me!**

**I tried to be as accurate as possible but if someone who can speak Scottish Gaelic reads this - Tell me! Am I accurate? I feel so paranoid about it cause I used my old dictornary.)**


	5. Story 1 Chapter 5

**Where I want to be.**

Scotland had stomped into the bathroom. He kicked at the wall angrily before his vision blurred. He felt the world shift beneath his feet as he became woozy from his lack of blood. He fell against the sink dizzily.

"Cack…."

He had lost a lot of blood from his burst lip, bleeding nose and a cut on his shoulder from a broken glass he had rolled onto during the fight. He stared at his reflection. He was going to be black and blue for few days, maybe a week or more. He sighed and leaned his face on the cool glass. He felt himself burning up. A fever.

"Cack…"

He was exhausted but he didn't want to stay in this tiny bathroom in some English pub.

He knew where he wanted to be.

He glanced at his reflection again. He was covered in a lot of blood and was still bleeding from his lip and nose. His shoulder was the worse though, the blood was spreading through his clothes and he knew he would need stitches.

He turned on the tap, wincing when he saw how bruised and swollen his knuckle was. It seemed to be broken but he couldn't feel anything from the adrenaline pulsing through his body.

He felt his torso gingerly and guessed at least 5 of his ribs were broken or fractured.

He pulled off his black gloves and began splashing the freezing water on his face, snapping him from his dizzy state. He could hear France and America arguing next door. He couldn't leave through the front door without being stopped by them.

He turned to a small, high window. It had a lock on it to stop people from escaping without paying. He smirked as he revelled in the challenge of breaking the lock. He reached up and pulled on the lock. He knew how to pull on a lock so it would break under pressure. He strained as he tugged on the locker harder and harder. He felt it buckled under his strength, finally snapping in half.

He grinned as he tossed the worthless hunk of metal to the side. He forced the rusted window open. He pulled himself up onto the window sill and shimmied through the tight space.

He grumbled some angry swears as he forced himself through the small hole. He felt another rib break from the pressure of the bottom edge of the window. It was probably weakened during the fight. He swore more.

It may not hurt now but tomorrow was going to be hell.

Finally through the small crack of a window, he staggered in the direction of the road. The window had lead out into a close by alley way.

It was still light out and he guessed that it was about 6 o'clock.

He stumbled in front of a taxi which skidded to a stop. He slammed his hands down on the hood to regain his balance again. The driver peeked his head out of the window.

"Hey! Are you okay?" Scotland grinned slightly.

"Aye but I wannae a lift home." The taxi driver looked startled at the request and the sight of the man covered in blood.

"Okay sir. Where are you heading?" He mumbled the name of his home as he slid into the back seat.

"But that's all the way north in Scotland!" The red head just nodded. The driver sighed.

"Okay but this will be an expensive drive. I hope you have enough." Scotland just grunted in reply and the driver took it as a yes. He started the car and began the long drive to Scotland's house.

Scotland sat silently in the back seat the entire journey with his head dipped. The driver assumed that he had passed out or had fallen asleep. He was tempted to take the man to hospital. He was obviously seriously injured and need medical treatment. But the blood scared the driver, he knew this man could be dangerous and didn't want to provoke the man needlessly.

The sun set about two hours through the journey and it was after midnight when they arrived at their destination.

The red head raised his head without any prompting much to the driver's surprise. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He reached into it and pulled out a fistful of £100 notes. He leaned forward and dropped them onto the driver's lap. The driver picked up a note suspiciously and stared at it.

"Is this real money? It looks different from regular money. This better not be fake!" Scotland sighed gruffly.

"Nae. Tiz Scottish monae…" (Read A/N for mini rant about this!) He exited the car, slamming it a little harder than necessary. The driver leaned out of the door.

"Hey! Don't you want your change?"

"Nar. Keep it." He waved over his back, not bothering to turn around. The driver grinned as he counted just how much money Scotland had given him.

Scotland's home was actually closer to a castle than a house. Actually it was a castle. (A/N – I'll explain why it's a castle. I promise!) He hobbled up to the front door and tried the handle. It was locked.

"Damnú air!_…." _Scotland had left his keys somewhere. He rounded the edge of the huge building to a modern looking garage he had built a couple of years ago. He pushed the door up and smiled weakly to his self when it opened stiffly. Minutes later, he had hot-wired his own car and was on the road, heading East to the place where he wanted to be.

**(A/N - Oooo Scotland has ran away and is in trouble! He can barely walk straight and yet he is driving. Please kids do not copy him! You don't know what happens after he begins driving. He had blood lost and can't see straight. So don't copy him! For all you know, he is gonna crash or something! He could be okay but he could not be. He could die! You will have to continue reading to find out...**

**Scottish Gaelic translations **

**Cack – shit**

**Damnú air! – Damn it!**

**Still feeling paranoid about my gaelic. Can someone check this out for me please? Google translate doesn't have it so I spent half an hour flicking through my dictionary.**

**MINI RANT TIME! -Grrrrr! English people are so damn paranoid about scottish money! Trying to buy something in England with Scottish money is like trying to trade lumps of mud for gold. Every time I hand them a Scottish note, they stare at it as if I just handed them a damn puppy! SCOTTISH MONEY IS REAL MONEY! It's legal tender! The only reason I can even use Scottish money in England is cause I look all sweet and innocent. I only give English money to the homeless people in England cause I am always worried that the Scottish money wouldn't be accepted! Giving them Scottish money would be like giving them a small pile of blank paper! ARGH! GET OVER IT ENGLAND! WE HAVE OUR OWN MONEY! I mean we don't doubt English notes. We accept the rare and occasional note without a second glance. Because we know what both Scottish and English notes look like and we aren't fussy about which one we get. Some english cashiers will actually hold the money up to the light to check it? GET A GRIP!**

**That felt good... I could go on for longer but to be honest I think that would bore some people...**

**Why Scotland's house is a castle (there is a logical reason) - **

**Scotland is actually famous for its castles. Our number of castles rival the number of pubs nearly. Nearly! We have lots of castles, some the size of a bungalow, some the size of a village. Scotland's castle is the size of a very big house, a masion in other words. It's not as big as Buckingham Palace but it had 3 floors plus a basement and a small attic that acts as a storage room. The outside looks really old. Some of the insides are original and look very old but some of the rooms have been renovated and are surprising very modern. He says his house is also haunted. Scotland is famous for it's ghosts and spirits too and nearly every city has it's own 'ghost tour'. Castle stuwart is the most haunted place in Britain and guess where it is! That's right Scotland! I've been on some, they are really fun actually. He likes to point this put to America everytime he visits him. It's a bit sadistic how he tells America all the gory ghost stories. And a little funny... His house is also on the edge of Loch Ness, biggest body of water in Britain! He likes being close to the water because that's where his favourite pet lives. (Nessie the Loch Ness Monster - it's a girl btw) If you visit Scotland, you must go to the castles! You will easily see why Scotland's home is a castle. They are beautiful.)**


	6. Story 1 Chapter 6

**Meeting the brothers.**

France had just burst through the bathroom door, panicking and declaring that Scotland had gone missing. Normally this wouldn't be a problem except for the fact Scotland was badly injured and probably wasn't in a good state for making wise decisions or even walking very far. England actually didn't believe his ears at first.

"What did you say?"

"L'Ecosse is gone! Mon cher is missing!"

America didn't really know how to react. Sure he didn't like the violent red haired nation but he didn't want anything bad to happen to him. Heroes were meant to protect people, not wish ill fortune on them. He knew he would feel guilty too if something bad did happen to him. It was his fault Scotland was injured in the first place.

"Missing? Scotland can't be missing. Frog face did you check the stalls?"

"OUI!" France sounded impatient and very worried. The barman spoke up.

"There is no way out of the bathroom. There is only one small window and it has a padlock."

"He broke ze padlock!" England paled. He tried to stand up, only to groan in pain and clutch his stomach. America stood up to support him.

"America you git. Put me down! You're injured too."

"Yeah but I'm stronger than you." The American grinned at the irritated face England had on after being reminded of America's greater strength. His face returned to his concern expression when he remembered the situation. The two countries leaned on each other and hobbled to the bathroom to check if France was telling the truth. The bathroom was a mess. Scotland had left the tap on and the floor was a light pink with blood and water. A boot mark was on the wall from where he had kicked it. In the corner of the bathroom was the remains of a padlock and the window was jarred open, showing that Scotland had left through the window. England turned off the tap.

"Let's not panic." France rolled his eyes but still sounded panicked.

"Angleterre, your brother iz bleeding heavily and we have no idea where he iz!"

"But he couldn't have gotten far. It's still bright outside so it should be easy to find someone who has seen him. Don't worry. We will find him in under 15 minutes."

France nodded and rushed out of the door and into the street to question confused passing English people. England and America followed him slowly, still both limping from being beaten up by Scotland. They joined in the search for someone who had seen Scotland, though most people were scared off by the load of blood on America and the bandages on both of them. After 10 minutes, France came screaming and crying over to England and America. England tried to shake off the yelling Frenchman who clung desperately to his waist.

"THAT HURTS YOU WANKER! KEEP OFF! WHAT ARE YOU BLUBBERING ABOUT?" France sniffed and looked up.

"L'Ecosse…. He got in ze tazi…"

"A taxi?"

"Oui! Now mon L'Ecosse could be anywhere!" England and America looked stunned. This was unexpected. It was impossible to know where the scarlet haired nation had ran off to now. England pulled out his phone which he kept on his person at all times. (Yeah – even in his PJs) He tapped in a number and held it up to his ear.

"Hello? North Ireland. It's me England."

Seconds later he removed it from his ear and re typed the number mumbling something along the lines of. "That bastard! I can't believe he hanged up!" He waited for a couple of seconds before yelling into the phone.

"Don't hang up! Hear me out!" He listened and looked relieved as Ireland didn't hang up.

"Ummm… Well… Scotland has disappeared and I was wondering if you could lend a hand?..." England listened to North Ireland.

"It's bad this time because he is bleeding heavily and we don't know where he is!" He listens again and shuffled his foot uncomfortably when he heard whatever North Ireland said.

"It was sort of my fault… but I wasn't the one was fought him though!" He added quickly. He listened to North Ireland's reply again.

"It was America…" He almost dropped the phone when he heard a huge angry scream through the small device. He replaced it against his ear again.

"I know, I know. I KNOW! But its worst than that! Do you know what date it is today?" He paused and listened to North Ireland's answer. He listened for a long time for it seems like Ireland wasn't answering.

"Are you still there?..." More silence….

"North Ireland?..." England was starting to look worried about his brother's reaction or rather lack of reaction and he already looked very concern for his missing brother. Suddenly a voice came over the phone and England listened intently. He looked really surprised and shocked at whatever the other nation said. Suddenly North Ireland hung up again.

"Yo Dude. So what did umm… North Ireland?... say to you?" England still had his phone to his ear.

"Oh. He said he would help me." America grinned.

"That's good, right!"

"Right…." America frowned at the other's blonde sudden discomfort. North Ireland had obviously said something else along with the 'willing to help' part. France looked grave again as he seemed to have a vague idea to what the Irish man had said. America pouted again. He hated not knowing what was going on.

A couple of hours later and France had driven England and America to meet North Ireland at Scotland's border. They guessed that if Scotland got a taxi to any where it would be to Scotland. He probably didn't want to see anyone at the moment and was likely hiding somewhere in his own country. The problem is knowing where. France pulled up his Renaults to the meeting place, which was a small diner, and was surprised when he saw a Toyota Avensis along side North Ireland's motor cycle. He stepped out and saw two reddish brown haired men and a slightly shorter light brown haired man standing in between them uncomfortably as they scowled at each other. They turned to look at France as he approached them. The younger looking auburn waved happily.

"Hey there Francey!" while the older one shot a glare at him.

"Nord Irlande! L'Irlande! Et petit Pays de Galles!" America and England helped each other out of the car.

"Whoa Dude! There are three North Irelands?" (America was in the car when France greeted them so he didn't hear their names) England sighed and rolled his eyes, flinching. The three brother noticed England and America behind France and surge pass the Frenchman. Ireland reached there first and punched England in the jaw. England gave him the finger, having no problem standing up to Ireland today it seems. North Ireland followed behind him and grabbed Ireland's fist before it whacked England again.

"Nae fair brother! I wannae hit Iggy first!" He pouted like a little child. Wales stood silently behind both of them, not joining in properly. America shouted out.

"Hey Dude! You can't just hit an injured guy like that!" All three glared full forced with bright green eyes. North Ireland released Ireland's fist and hit America, much to his surprise. Wales sighed. France stepped in to introduce them and stop the potential fight.

"L'Amerique. Zis iz L'Irlande, Nord Irlande et Pays de Galles." He pointed to each of the men in turn, naming them. England nodded recognising his brothers and Ireland's eyebrow twitched irritated. North Ireland smiled politely and Wales just had a slightly bored look on his face. America glared at them, rubbing his cheek.

"Dude! Why did you hit me?" North Ireland just frowned a little at the question.

"Because of ya, our beloved older brother is missing." Ireland nodded in agreement.

"Aye. It's yer fault tha this happened!"

"And England's fault too…" Wales added quietly.

America didn't argue back. England mumbled something under his breath. "Sorry. What did you say Dude?"

"I said… I only phoned North Ireland for help…." North Ireland wrapped his arms tightly around Wales and Ireland, pulling them together, and smiled sweetly.

"How could I leave my braw brothers out of ta loop? I gave a cry to Ireland and picked up Wales just after I hung up." North Ireland seemed to be the happy go lucky type who didn't really think things through. He smiled a lot and was rather friendly with everyone. Ireland nodded in agreement, prying North Ireland's arm off of his shoulder annoyed.

"Yes. He also told us why this situation was so serious." He looked at America, clearly blaming him. He seemed to not like being touched by his younger brother. Wales didn't really speak much. France sounded serious suddenly.

"So ze don't need to explain anything. C'est bien. We should split up into trois teams since we have trois vehicles. We need to also pick ze likely locations for L'Ecosse to go to." Ireland looked at France slightly impressed but still annoyed looking.

"For once ta pervert makes a tad of sense." North Ireland pouted.

"Donnae call Francy perverse…." Wales interjected in a small voice.

"Technically he is a pervert North Ireland but that's not important at the moment." France chuckled.

"Ohohohoho. You brothers never change!" America looked at them curiously.

"So you guys and Scotland and England are all one country?" Ireland huffed and turned red in the face. Wales spoke up before Ireland lost his temper and did something rash. He almost glared at America and the blonde noticed that the country's eyes were a bright turquoise green. He looked at the Irish men's eyes and realise that both of their eyes were the same colour; a forest green, darker than England's light green eyes and duller than Scotland's emerald eyes.

"Nae. Actually only me, North Ireland and Scotland are a part of Britain along with England…. Ireland is independent."

"So Ireland isn't in the UK? Why?" England paled slightly, noticing the bad direction of conversation.

"Shut up wanker before you get yourself beaten up again!" He sounded really weak and tired. America decided to listen to him though he frowned at England's weak voice. North Ireland wrapped both of his arms around Ireland's neck and hugged him.

"Come on Broth! Just ignore him! Think of Scotty!" Ireland huffed irritated and shook off his younger brother. He seemed to have lost his anger though and was just his regular mildly annoyed self again.

Wales seemed to be the most reasonable of the brothers. "I think we should check his home first. Once there we canne discuss where to search next."

"I agree Wales." England pushed himself up so he could sound more authorative despite the added discomfort from his bruises. "We should all go there first. Ireland, you can take Wales on the back of your motor cycle. North Ireland can take America and France will drive me." Ireland glared at England hatefully and yelled.

"I nae under yer control anymore! Ye cannae boss me around!" It seems that England had touched a trigger. North Ireland patted him on the shoulder, instead of just hugging him like his regular self. He spoke in a quiet comforting voice.

"It's braw, it's braw… He annae giving ye orders…." Ireland tsked and turned away from England and America angrily, stomping a couple of feet away. North Ireland sighed. "Cheers England." He said sarcastically as he turned around to try and comfort his brother. Wales looked at England.

"England…." He sounded really disappointed in him. America was confused by what had set Ireland off like that. Was it because England was ordering him around? England frowned and stood straighter, before grabbing his stomach in pain.

"Ireland. This is no time to throw a temper tantrum. Wales, don't look at me like that!" France stood in between them.

"You deux can work out your problem after we find L'Ecosse! Mon cher is still missing!" Ireland spoke loudly.

"Donnae call him 'my dear', pervert!" North Ireland laughed a bit as Ireland got over about England's previous orders. France sighed. Ireland kept getting angry with England and annoyed with North Ireland and America. Plus all three seemed angry at both America and England for what had happened with Scotland. France knew that the two Irish men wanted to punch America and England more but resisted so they could focus on helping Scotland. But somehow they kept getting distracted. France was becoming impatient. It felt like they were making slow process in even just beginning to search for Scotland.

"Oui. Oui. We zhall split up according to ze L'Angleterre's suggestionz as it iz ze simpliest. Oui L'Irlande?" He huffed loudly and angrily, refusing to face England. North Ireland just turned back to face them.

"He agrees."

"Don't decide for me!"

"But you do."

"Shut up!"

"Potatoe sucker!"

"Guiness guzzler!" They scowled at each other.

"Ireland, North Ireland. Stop it. We need to find Alba." His voice was really quiet, like Canada's. He stepped forward for the first time. "Fighting will nae get us anay where." America raised his free hand.

"America?"

"Who is Alba? I thought we were looking for Scotland." Everyone face palmed.

"Edjit American…" Ireland muttered under his breath. North Ireland perked up from his mood with Ireland.

"It's Scottie's far-ainm! His nickname."

"Oh…. Alba…" He considered it carefully, thinking about Scotland's nickname. It sounded weird to him. England sighed.

"Right. Let's go. It's a few hour drive to Scotland's house."

**(A/N - Ah the other brothers finally appear. Ireland is not part of the UK but he and Scotland have a close relationship so he dicided to help out, despite not getting along with England and sometimes North Ireland.**

** Basic personalities is Wales is quiet and reasonable (like Canada.) but he doesn't really get on with any of his brother except for Scotland and sometimes North Ireland. He feels really uncomfortable around France because France is a pervert. He prefers to be by his self. He rather not talk to England if he can help it. Hates being mistaken for England cause the two like similar. His drinking ability is the same as England's. He can't drink much before he is flat on the floor. He acts like drunk England when he drinks too.**

**North Ireland is the cheery type. He is nearly always smiling and loves to hug his brothers. He always gets into petty fights with Ireland. His personality takes a 180 when he drinks. He becomes very violent and angry and it usually takes Scotland to stop his rampage. He doesn't mind being with England but if Scotland and England are having a arguemtn, he will take Scotland's side. Takes a lot to get him drunk but the transformation is almost instant. It only takes a tablespoon of beer to take him from sober to drunk if he has drank alot before. Has a big mouth and is lousy at keeping secrets or paying attention.  
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**Ireland is quite moody and scowls alot. He really doesn't like England but loves his older brother. He doesn't mind Wales and argues often with North Ireland but mainly for the sake of argueing. Avoids Engand like the plague. His drunk self is like North Ireland's in the fact, he becomes even more violent and moody. His transformatoin is less noticable though.**

**This is how I imagined how the brothers would look. I didn't draw it btw. I wish I did but I didn't.**

h t t p : / / 2 5 . m e d i a . t u m b l r . c o m / t u m b l r _ l e q e s 2 W G z q 1 q f 6 i q 3 o 1 _ 5 0 0 . j p g

**Just remove all the spaces first. One between each letter  
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**From left to right - North Ireland, Scotland, Ireland. There eyes are a slightly darker green, more foresty, in my head though. Wales looks just like England but with blue-green eyes. In Age order (according to me)**

**Scotland**

**Ireland**

**North Ireland**

**Wales**

**And finally little England**

**For the whole North Ireland and Ireland's relationship, imagine Romano and Italy but rather than uniting into one country, they separated and that's basically it.**

**Ask if you need translations and REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!)**


	7. Story 1 Chapter 7

**A Drive to Scotland**

_**Ireland and Wales**_** –**

Wales was happy that England told Ireland to take North Ireland's motor bike. North Ireland was a reckless and crazy driver and he only became worst on his bike. Not that Ireland wasn't a reckless driver too but he wasn't as bad as his northern half. After Ireland threatened North Ireland with a hole punched through his forehead if he got one scratch on his car, the two set off. They were racing along the tarmac. After an hour or so, Ireland began talking. Wales leaned in closer so he could hear better.

"You shouldnae have said Alba's name in front of America." Wales didn't answer back but he knew Ireland was right. "He'll be gutted if America calls him that."

"I know…. I'm sorry…"

"Donnae say sorry to me!"

"I know…."

"Donnae sound so dour either! North Ireland was the one who told him it was Alba's bloody 'nickname'!" He sounded very annoyed at the stupidity of his big-mouth younger brother. Wales suddenly gripped Ireland tighter and rested his head on his shoulder.

"Will he be alright?..."

"Aye… It's Alba…"

"Aye. I ken… But they said he was in a right burach…"

"Wheesht! Stop havering arund! He'll be fine!" He said angrily, trying to convince them both.

"But Ireland!..."

"I sed STOP! This is Alba we're talkin' aboot! We'll find him! He'll grin at us and say 'Aye. I feel dandy!' Because he's our big broth!" Wales stopped talking. He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning a little more on Ireland. Ireland's tone became softer as he tried to comfort his younger brother. "Trust me… he is fine…" Wales nodded, appreciating his brother's attempted gentleness. Ireland rarely sounded kind so Wales felt really touched.

"Ireland…"

"Aye?"

"I'm suddenly worried that North Ireland will tell America something important…" Ireland spluttered in sudden realisation.

"That eejit! He's got the biggest puss I have ever seen!" Wales smiled a little.

"It cannae be helped now… Let's just hope the damage isnnae too bad."

_**North Ireland and America –**_

North Ireland was disappointed when he couldn't ride his bike. After being told to not get the car scratched or Ireland was going to punch a hole somewhere… or something like that. He wasn't actually paying attention. As soon as Ireland had driven off on the motorcycle, North Ireland jumped into the car, slamming the door too hard. America leaped in too, slamming the door even harder. North Ireland floored it, before America had time to put on his seat belt. North Ireland didn't even bother putting on a seat belt.

"WHOOOOA DUDE!" North Ireland grinned and rolled down his window. America did the same. "Woohoo!" North Ireland swerved, almost hitting a car.

"AYE! We canne go faster!" He pressed harder on the gas, speeding up more. If it was any other country in the passenger seat, apart from America (and maybe Italy), they would have crapped their pants. North Ireland's driving speed slowed down a little when they got on the motorway. Both America and North Ireland hated silence so they tried to talk to each other. It was a little awkward at first, soon though they were chatting like old friends. (It must be nice to be them…) Until they started talking about Scotland.

"So why did ye batter Scotland?" America shifted awkwardly.

"Cause he hurt England… It's a hero's duty to protect his friends…" North Ireland paused in thought but he was still smiling. It took a lot to make Ireland stop smiling.

"But it's the 16th."

"Huh? And?" North Ireland rolled his eyes.

"Didnae Iggy tell you?" He smiled a little wider, not realising that this was not be his secret to tell. "The 16th of April is the one day a year that England let's Scotland haffa chance fer revenge! I thought you guys were close? Ye really didn't know?"

America didn't reply. He thought they were close too. Before he could ask why, North Ireland continued. "But every year Scotland doesnae do it… He goes easy on him… If it was me or Ireland, the debt woold have been paid years ago! Ye know big brother is sometimes a fair softie…."

"Huh? What do you mean? Didn't you see England? He can barely stand dude! That's revenge enough!" North Ireland shot a glare at America but he just glared back. The car sped up without the Irish man realising it.

"Enuff?" Ireland's voice had change from his earlier cheery one to absolute loathing. "Nae! If Scotland let me, I wouldnae stop at just hitting him!" America flinched. North Ireland calmed down a little and the car slowed again. "Nae… It isnnae enuff fer me… or fer Scotland… and England kens it… But Scotland… he wonnae do it…" He sounded a little sad or disappointed.

There was a long pause.

"Revenge for what dude?"

"Ye really donnae know?" America shook his head.

"It's tha day when they went ta far…."

"Huh?"

"Ye ken how England and Scotland fight aloot. They dinnae use ta. It started when Rome conquered England and eventually Wales. When he finally left, Wales was the same but wee Iggy wasnae. He was a different bairne. He and Scotland fought a lot afta that." He sighed."A lotta wars en battles…" America stared at North Ireland, eager to learn more about his ex-older brother.

"Francy en Scottie were very close friends back then. They sometimes have a… strange relationship now…. But back then, France was like another brother. They have tha longest alliance between two countries in history ye ken. If it wasnae fer the union, I think they would still have the alliance today. Anyway, Scotland had a rebellion against England in 1746. It was called tha Jacobite rebellion and Scotland almost defeated England."

"Wait, What? How the hell did that happened dude?" North Ireland grinned.

"Brother is strong by himself but so were his people. He hadda lotta support from France and some English men too. He won many battles easily with a famous move called tha 'Highland charge.'"

"Highland charge?"

"Aye! It's when you rush forward, swinging around your sword , screaming. Scary being on the receiving end. Scared the keech oot of me. A very powerful attack when used right."

"Wow! That sounds awesome." America had pictured a whole army of Scotlands running and screaming while waving around swords. North Ireland laughed a bit at America's reaction.

"The bigger the strength is when it's braw, the weaker it is when it goes boggin' though." North Ireland swerved around a lorry and barely dodged an oncoming car but both countries ignored it.

"Anyway, Scotland was just ootside tha capital. England's main army was elsewhere and it was a easy victory." America's eyes widen.

"Wait! I thought Scotland lost dude!"

"He dinnae attacked…."

"Huh?"

"He hadda chance ta beat England but he dinnae attacked. A false spy told his boss some bad information…. When Scotland heard the spy himself, he knew that the man was havering. He's smart like tha'. He decided nae to tell his boss though."

"Why?..." North Ireland shrugged, even though he knew the answer.

"Scotland visited England in the middle of tha night before the Jacobites left. Told him to nae bother attacking back cause he was leaving. Apparently when Iggy asked why, Scottie acted cruel, sayin' he dinnae have time to be fightin' a wee bairne. This made Iggy mad. Ye see, Iggy has been fightin' fer Scottie's recognition but he only see him as a wee broth. Even now…."

America stared at North Ireland. The story sounded scarily similar to what happened between him and England. A little too similar for his liking.

"Anyway, Scottie returned back to Scotland, all the way up to Invershnecky. He dinnae realised that Iggy had followed him with his main army. Scottie was tired from the rebellion and walking all night and day to get back home. When he found oot England had followed him, he was gutted. His boss told him there was going to be a battle, despite his protests. His boss wasnae a good fighter or thinker. Scotland's fighting knowledge was the reason why they were so successful so far. The boss dinnae listen to him, ignoring how weak and tired the men were and choosing a swampy flat land for the battle grounds, where the highland charge was nae possible."

"Dude, that guy sounds totally un awesome."

"Aye. I agree. The Battle of Culloden, as it was called, was quick, lasted less than an hour. Scotland's men attempted a Highland charge and failed. Almost 2000 Scots were killed while only about 50 Englishmen were killed. It was a brutal blood bath…." North Ireland's grip in the wheel tightened. America was actually a little shocked that England could act so cruelly towards his own brother, even if the brother was Scotland.

"That's totally…." America didn't really know how to describe it. "It doesn't seem like enough to want revenge this badly though…"

"It ain't! What England did next… That's was what broke Scotland!" North Ireland snarled a little in anger.

"Broke him? What? That not the end?"

"Nae! Scotland and England met just after tha battle. Scotland's boss, Prince Charlie, had scurried away to France. Since Scotland had lost, England felt like he deserved recognition. Scotland refused to give it to him. He said he admitted and accepted his defeat but England was still a wee bairne compared ta him. They began fightin' over it. The fight mirrored the entire rebellion almost exactly actually."

"Really?"

"Aye. Scotland used a claymore, a two handed sword, and England used a gun. Scotland had managed to knock England's gun away and held the sword to his neck. But he dinnae attacked or finished the fight. He plunged the claymore into the ground and walked away, once agen saying he dinnae wannae waste his time on a bairne." America watched the sadness and anger on the auburn man's face. He was used to seeing him smiled sweetly. He had smiled through most of the story, right up to the part about the Battle of Culloden. He gritted his teeth.

"Do ye ken what Scotland's most prized possession is?"

"Ummm… His really big sword… You know… the uh… Claymore?"

"Nar… His back…"

"His back?"

"Aye. Our brother always prided his back. Never ran from a fight so neva got a single cut or scar on it. Even against the invincible Roman Empire, he refused to run. I suppose he thought similarly to ye in tha point. Yer 'Heros neva run' stuff. Scotland believed deeply in that." America gazed at him. He really didn't think that he had anything in common with the red haired man.

"Oh…"

"And England took that…" Ireland squeezed the wheel tighter, then finally released it and breathed out in a long sigh.

"How?..." North Ireland sighed.

"Scotland had technically won tha fight by knocking away England's weapon but he didnae swing the finishing blow. He left the fight cause he couldnae hurt his wee bro like tha. He turned his back on his brother. England couldnae stand it, Scotland's refusal to recognise him as something other than his wee brother, so he grabbed his bayonet and…." North Ireland gulped a little and leaned his head to the side a bit. "He cut down Scotland while his back was turned…."

The car was now almost travelling at the speed limit. (This means North Ireland has slowed down a lot btw) America slammed his hands on the dash board, red faced.

"I know England, dude! He would totally never do that!"

"And we ken him betta! We were there when he was a wee babe!" America fumed, he knew North Ireland was right about that but he refused to accept that his close friend who attack his brother while his back is turned.

"I don't believe you dude! You guys just don't like England."

"Nar… Yer wrong aboot that…" Ireland looked out of the window. America was angry. He didn't want to believe North Ireland but he was curious to how the tale end.

"So… what happened next dude?..." He grumbled quietly. North Ireland suppressed a chuckle but smiled again, only to frown seconds later.

"Scotland fell and was captured… England's boss demanded that Scotland should be handed over to him. He wanted to make sure that there was never another Jacobite rebellion. England complied." It lacked the detail that the rest of the story had so America had a feeling that North Ireland was hiding something. He wanted to know more so prompted.

"And?"

"And whit?"

"What did England's boss do?" He demanded impatiently. North Ireland looked off to the side, clearly uncomfortable.

"Well… I suppose he suppressed Scotland's culture…"

"Suppressed his culture?…. How did he do tha~" He was interrupted suddenly.

"We're here!" North Ireland grinned as he turned left on to a long dirt road. Ireland crashed along the dirt road until a castle came into view.

"Scotland lives here?"

"Aye! This is his hoose!" Ireland and Wales were already here as they left first. Just before North Ireland jumped out of the car, America grabbed his sleeve.

"How does France know all this?" North Ireland tilted his head to the side.

"Cause he was meant ta be at tha battle ta help Scotland but he neva showed up. He abandoned his best friend when he needed him most. Scotland forgave him but Ireland still doesn't like him fer it."

"And what about you?" Ireland paused in thought, suddenly he grinned.

"If big brother forgives him then I will too…" He grabbed the door about to open it but turned around to say one last thing. "But if France leaves my brother like that agen or lets him down agen, then I will turn him into a boggin' burach!..." He threatened, smiling cheerfully. He added as he kicked open the door. "If you wannae know more, ask Iggy aboot Cumberland tha butcher!" He jumped out the door and ran to his brothers, grinning.

"Foos yer doos?"

"Braw…."

"Barry! Is my car barry, taa?"

"Aye!"

America exited the car to join them, just as France's car drove into view.

_**France and England –**_

"So nice that you pair us together, oui? Vous wanted to be alone together?" England was in the back seat, barely able to sit up.

"Shut up… you git…"

"So why did you pair us together, mon cher?" France said in a teasing voice. England panted a little.

"Be-because… I-I don't w-w-want… my br-brothers-ers… to s-see me…. w-w-weak…" He sounded very weak and tired. France sighed at the lacked of strength in his reply.

"Tu est at your limit. Angleterre." England didn't reply.

"Angleterre?" He looked over his shoulder.

"He's asleep?" He sighed. He didn't want to sit, not talking, driving a passed out England to Scotland's house. If his friend wasn't in immediate danger, he would pull over to the side of the road and molest England while he's passed out. He thought about what England had said about not wanting to appear weak.

"Mon petit Angleterre… Tu do not understand ton frères at all…." He sighed. This was going to be a long journey for him….

**(A/N - Yep. North Ireland has a big mouth and doesn't know when to shut up. This is pretty historical accurate to some degree. I made Scotland's boss Bonnie Prince Charlie who in all rights was an idiot. His generals voted against leaving England and against using marsh land as a battle field but he ignored them. Because of him, Scotland went through years of suppression. It was bad to be Scottish at the time. Clans were broken up, tartan and bagpipes were banned, Gaelic (Scotland's native language) was banned and replaced with English. People who resisted the change was killed without a second thought and anyone suspected of being a Jacobite was killed without a trial. All the land which legally belong to the Scotsmen was taken away from them and given to rich English lords and ladys who placed heavy taxes on the land. Scottish people had to pay t live on their own land or be killed. Many men were killed so they could not rebel or fight back. In a nutshell - It sucked... It really really sucked.**

**You can still see some of the effects today. The most obvious one being that less than 1% of Scottish people can actually speak Scottish Gaelic. Some Scottish people know nothing about Gaelic what so ever! I find this personally outrageous as a proud scots woman... Unfortunatly I can't speak Gaelic either... **

**I live in Inverness actually which is right beside the 'Battle of Culloden' field. So I know what I'm talking about. Cumberland the butcher was the English army's leader and the man in charge of destorying all remains of Scottish culture so there would be no more Jacobites. He was brutal and vicious and kinda porky. (fat) **

**Translations - **

**Alba - Another name for Scotland that some Scottish people like to use. Ireland, North Ireland and Wales use it as a pet name. Scotland only lets his brothers call him that though as he finds it a very personal way to call him. **

**Burach - mess**

**Ken - understand but it can mean know**

**Havering - talking nonsense (usually associated with being drunk and slurring)**

**dandy - fine, great**

**puss - mouth**

**eejit - Gaelic for idiot (like the only Gaelic world i know... -.-)**

**Gutted - emotional blow**

**Babe - baby**

**Braw - good**

**Barry - splendid**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	8. Story 1 Chapter 8

**(A/N - The reason I took so long to publish this was the fact that the chapter was originally very long... VERY VERY LONG! About 6000 words! It almost killed me. (I might secretly be a masocist... I don't know...) **

**So in my wisdom I decided to divide the chapter into three parts. This is the first part. Enjoy!)  
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"AHHHHHHH!" France was screaming at the top of his voice. "Thiz cannot be happening!" Normally England would yell at him to shut up but to be honest but he was in a bit of shock too. The six men were staring at an empty garage.

15 minutes before this –

France pulled up beside the other two vehicles. He looked over his shoulder to the backseat. "Angleterre. We're here. Time to get up." England stirred.

"Huh?"

"We're at L'Ecosse's maison!" That woke England up.

"What? Already?" France sighed.

"Tu been asleep pour sept houres…."

"Oh…." England looked around in surprise, realising that it was now dark. He glanced at France suspiciously suddenly. France sighed again.

"Non. I didn't do anything to you, Angleterre. Mon cherie is still missing, I do not have time to molest you." He spoke over exaggeratingly in a dramatic way. England rolled his eyes.

"Scotland will be fine." He pushed the car door open and stepped out. France killed the engine and sighed again as England closed the door.

"Tu do not understand ton frère at all, Angleterre…."

France joined England and helped him over the small group of men which had also just arrived. "Bonjour. Is l'Ecosse here?"

"Dunno, we only git here oorselves, Frenchy." Ireland snapped at France, removing the motorcycle helmet to glare at France. Wales already had his helmet off and sighed quietly.

"I'll go check…" Wales was always the quiet, noted America, like Canada in many ways. But he guessed, that unlike Canada, it was by choice rather than just being a naturally quiet person. Probably if he wanted to, he could yell just as loud as Ireland or England but who would want to shout when you already have four other brothers making enough noise for twenty.

He left the group, sighing quietly. When he was away from the others and nearing Scotland's front door, a familiar scaly friend greeted him. A bright green dragon, the size of a Labrador, flew down from the sky. It flapped its large wings, stirring up big gusts of wind around the welsh man. He held out his arm, like people would do for an eagle, and the dragon landed on it softly. Its thick talons wrapped around his arm and it clung on with its four paws. Wales smiled at it fondly and stroke the dragon's snout.

"Helô" He rarely smiled except in the company of dragons or the moments when his brothers got along. His smile was very rare but very beautiful. The dragon purred. Wales peered into the darkness, now that he was away from the headlights of the car. The dragon let out a short burst of bright yellow flames, lighting up the path. "Diolch i ti ffrind…." The dragon nuzzled his dirty blond hair in reply and climbed around so it could hang off his back and the Welshman's hands were free. Wales knocked loudly on the door, not expecting an answer. He knew Scotland would be sulking. He called gently through the door.

"Alba! Open up!" He tried the door but frowned heavily when the door refused to move. He doubted Scotland's soberness and consciousness to even think about locking his door. Even when he was perfectly fine, he rarely locked his door. The threat of the angry red-head hunting you down seemed to stop any potential burglars. He felt confused. Was Scotland not at home? Then where could he be? The dragon rested its head on his shoulder, sensing the man's discomfort. He rumbled a low steady growl to try and settle the blond. The blond didn't smile but he did ruffle his hand on the dragons head in a rough pat. He doubted Scotland was home now but he hoped he was close by. He walked around the edge of the large castle. A couple of fairies appeared, they were easily attracted to the UK brothers, especially when they were away from cities or other countries. They bowed slightly to the young man and he greeted them in a similar fashion.

"Hav' ye seen Alba?" They nodded furiously and squeaked in a high voice.

"Yes! We saw him! We saw him! He was covered in red and left here in blue!" Wales looked very surprised at this.

"So he was her'… Alba left in blu'?"

"Yes! In the metal blue thing!" Wales thought for a second. Some fairies were not familiar with recent human inventions though they tried. Modern things tend to hurt them or give them headaches. It only took a couple of second to realise what the small creatures were talking about. "A CAR?"

Wales didn't wait for the little winged beings to answer or confirm it. He sprinted around the corner and the dragon sunk his claws deeper into the man to hold on easier, drawing some blood from his back and shoulders. He run into view of the garage and groaned out of breath as he saw an open and empty garage.

"Keech…." He muttered under his breath. "KEECH!" The sudden scream echoed slightly. He threw his fist at the close by wall, realising all his anger in a swift punch. It broke the skin on his knuckles and it began to bleed gently. The dragon jumped off him for a minute before reattaching itself to his back again. He was very concern for his human friend, he rarely showed his emotions, especially his anger or sadness.

"Stupid Alba!" He began to run back to the other four countries.

**(N/A - Yeah this part was mainly Wales. He is like the complete opposite of North Ireland who explodes if he doesn't talk enough. In other words Wales can keep a secret for eternity while North Ireland can keep a secret for 10 minutes before it's on the internet. Strangely enough, he doesn't actually gossip, he just talks a lot and has no control over what he says. **

**Welsh Translations - **

**Helô - Hello**

**Diolch i ti ffrind - Thank you, my friend**

**PLEASE REVIEW)**


	9. Story 1 Chapter 9

**(A/N - The second part of the 6000 word chapter...)**

The other countries were in an equally as bad but slightly funnier situation. As soon as Wales was out of sight, America remembered North Ireland's chat in the car. North Ireland was famous for his big mouth and ability to keep a secret for less than 5 minutes.

"Hey England!" England looked up from his half dazed state.

"Huh? What is it?"

"Who is this 'Cumberland the butcher' dude?"

The scene froze as the others slowly absorbed what America had carelessly blurted out. The first one to move was Ireland followed by North Ireland. The reason for that though was because Ireland gripped his brother by the neck and began strangling him and shaking him violently. (Like what England did in the anime.)

"YE EDJIT! Wha' is it with ye and yer big pussie!" North Ireland was rattled like a rag doll uncontrollably.

"B-b-but we…. w-were j-ju-st t…t-t-talking!" His talking was irregular with the constant strangling and shaking.

"That's yer problem! Yer always squawking!" France let go of England and miraculously, he remained standing. He actually still seemed frozen and was a very pale colour. France rushed over and tried to drag Ireland away from his younger brother before this turned into a murder scene.

"L'Irlande! Tu will kill him!"

"Shove oof Frog-face!" America was stunned by the sudden violent reaction from the Irish man.

A sudden burst of heat and light (the dragon's fire breath) from the direction that Wales left stopped the fight as everyone turned to try and see the source. The darkness was too thick to see through so the fight resumed. Ireland grabbed the auburn haired man and placed his in a lock with his hands trapped on his back and Ireland holding his neck with his arm. He tried flailing around in vain.

"Ger oof Ireland! It's hurts!" He whined like a child. North Ireland acted childish, out of his brothers, he was the most immature.

"Nar! Nae till ye learn ta get yer mooth shut!" France sighed and stepped back.

"Nord Irlande… Why couldn't tu keep your le bush shut?..." He tutted and shook his head. America was confused.

"So this dude was meant to be a secret?" Ireland tightened his grip and North Ireland gasped for air a little as he tried to escape his big brother's steel hold on him.

"Non. It'z juzt not really our story to tell…." He shot a look at North Ireland who shrugged a little before gasping for air again. Ireland looked enraged with his younger brother's loose mouth. "It'z Angleterre'z and L'Ecosse'z…" He looked at England who snapped out of his frozen state when his name was mentioned again.

"Uh!... Yeah…" He looked uncomfortable and guilty.

"So who is this dude?"

"Ummm… What did my brother tell you?" America began to list the main points of his conversation, holding up a finger for each new point.

"Well… You were close til the Roman Empire invaded you then you began to fight… Scotland had some sorta of Jack Rebellion?…"

"J-j-jacobite!" North Ireland wheezed out.

"Wheesht!"

"Right! That's it! Then he almost won but then he turned back for some reason…" The two Irish brothers huffed out in irritation at the American's poor recollection of the story. He continued oblivious to their reaction. "… You followed him and beat the crap of him… then you like caught him and gave him over to the butcher dude…" England nodded.

"That's the basic story I suppose."

"Yeah. I just wanna know who the butcher dude is and what he did to Scotland to make him hate ya so much." England sighed.

"I guess I can tell you. If I don't North Ireland will later anyway…"

"No I wo~" He was cut off by Ireland, tightening his grip again and almost wrestling the man to the ground.

A small glare from England was shot at them. France settled back into a relaxed position against Ireland's car, slightly bored looking and very anxious. Ireland would have normally shouted at him to get away from his car but he was too busy, trying to silence North Ireland. England coughed into his hand once to clear his throat (and stall for time). America looked at him expectantly with big blue eyes.

"For a start, this 'butcher dude' was called Cumberland. The butcher part was just his nickname for… well… his cruelty, I suppose."

"Cruelty?"

"Yes. He was very harsh in his suppression of Scottish culture. A lot of Scotsmen and women were killed by him…. They were forced to disband their clans and family and stop wearing tartan, speaking Gaelic and playing bagpipes…" England looked miserable, retelling the story. He looked up to America's face to check for his reaction. America didn't seem to understand how bad suppression of one's culture was. England sighed internally and explained a little. "It's like if someone took away all your Macdonalds, American flags, apple pies and the statue of liberty"

America's mouth made a cute little 'o' shape as he finally understood, which soon turn into a deep frown.

"Anyone who resisted was killed immediately but unfortunately…. The Scottish people take after my brother. They were stubborn about letting go of their national identity but Cumberland was persistent… Scotland was my prisoner at the time. He had a bad injury on his back from the battle so was busy healing in my care… though he was continuously loud and bad-tempered…" England smiled weakly but it didn't reach his eyes. He left out where the injury came from but America already knew. He didn't tell England this though.

"Cumberland decided the best way to break their moral was to break their leader… Scotland… Unfortunately, he didn't know his weakness. Scotland is surprisingly strong and hard to break down. He was questioned and refused to answer, even after… some… torture…" He gulped loudly. America looked a little shell-shocked.

"So he asked me what Scotland valued the most. I didn't think much of it at the time. I answered, thinking it was just some bit of trivial information. I was a little naïve at the time…." His thick eyebrows furrowed. "I told him it was Scotland's pride at never running away… His un-marked back in other words… Scotland was already secretly depressed, after I…. after he was cut on the back during the battle."

France looked concerned and stared hard at the ground. He already knew the story (Thanks to North Ireland again.) but he hated hearing it. Ireland and North Ireland had fallen completely still and silent but North Ireland was still in a lock.

"I went to deliver Scotland's meals like I always do but he was missing. I asked my boss about it but he told me not to worry so I forgot about it. The next day he was also no in his room again. My boss told me to just ignore it again so I did. This happened for a couple of weeks and each day, I became more and more worried about where Scotland was despite my boss's reassurances…. Eventually after a month… he… he… appeared back… in… in…in his r-r-room…" His sentence became broken by hiccups and America jumped back in total surprise when the normally grouchy English man became crying in huge sobs. France looked shocked as well. England rarely cried in front of anyone. His brother stared at him with blank faces. To be honest, they were shocked at the tears but they weren't surprised either. They had seen Scotland after he was released, they had cried too when they saw him…. Especially when he spoke English...

England wiped at the stray tears with the sleeves of his PJs. "S-so-sorry about t-that… It was just thinking a-about it… I-I-I…" He gulped and took in a couple of breathes, settling himself again. His green eyes looked so sad. America couldn't speak, for once, because he had no idea what to say. The only time he had seen England cried like this was at the end of his revolution. He didn't cry for as long though. He seemed reluctant to cry here so his tears lasted a few minutes while his tears during the revolution lasted so long.

He decided to continue, mainly because it was a matter of pride. Once something was started, he believed it should be finished. "S-Scotland was back in his room. I was surprised but a little happy. I acted coldly though… that's how we always acted towards each other…. I asked him a couple of things but he just sat there, staring ahead of him… on a tiny stool in the middle of the room… I was startled. Every other time, I tried to talk to him, he would insult me or yell something at me angrily in Gaelic." He wiped the last tear away. "I-I walked up to him but he didn't move or do anything!" He moved his hands erratically as he tried to convey his feelings. He could still see the picture crystal clear in his mind.

_He had just placed the food on the floor by the door and was about to leave, expecting some sort of Gaelic insult to be thrown at his back as he left. He froze when there was no insult. He turned around and stared at Scotland a while but he didn't move. He didn't seem to see him or recognise him. He had seen the pale outlines of the remains of torture on the Scot's forearms and chest, for he wasn't wearing a shirt. They had already faded into light scars. He was an amazingly fast healer, barely marked for more than a couple of weeks before the wound disappeared completely. It always amazed and startled the blonde._

_ He remembered walking over to Scotland and looking closely at his face to examine it. It had been unusually pale and taunt. His cheeks were hollow and had black rings around his eyes. He thought about how concerned he was for the man's health, and questioning him for when was the last time he ate or slept. The red-hair remained silent, like a statue, which made him very worried at the time. That was when he had noticed his eyes. The brothers all had green eyes but each had a slightly different green apart from the two Irish men who shared eye and hair colour. _

_To put it simply the Irish men had the darkest green, Wales had the bluest green, England had the lightest green and Scotland had the brightest green. _

_They were always shining brightly and seemed to glow in the dark. They suited him well as his eyes always seemed alight with life and passion that burned fiercely. The eyes he had looked into weren't Scotland's… They were a dull, depressing green that reflected nothing. The two orbs of green had lost their regular mini flames of light. This was troubling. He didn't like Scotland but he didn't want his brother to be a zombie. He had waved a hand in front of his eyes, searching for any reactions. Usually this would earn a retort and his hands being slapped away in annoyance but he looked like he couldn't even see his hand. His eyes looked so unfocused that he was beginning to doubt if his brother could see actually see. _

_He moved his messy red bangs from his face to look at them better. 'Are you blind, Scotland?' …Silence…. 'Scotland?...' England circled around him a little, still crouching to check his ears in case he had become was deaf too. _

_He stopped when he saw…. He lifted his hand to his mouth and a flood of tears forced their ways to his eyes, making him cry involuntarily. He couldn't help it. There was just… so…. so much… blood! The long diagonal scar that ran from his bottom left back to his right shoulder blade, the one he had left on Scotland, had disappeared under the layers upon layers of deep, thick red gashes, criss-crossing. Signs of a whip being lashed against bare skin, of a hot iron rod being hit over and over again on him and of countless different blades slashing continuously covered the entire area of his back. Some wounds were fresh and some were old but none of them had been treated. He gasped for air through the sobs._

_'B-b-br-brother!...' It was the first time in a long time that he had called him his brother out loud. He stumbled back a little and ran to the front of his brother. He shook him a little, wanting a reaction. _

_'Brother!' The man didn't even seem to register that he was moving or that he was being shaken. His brother felt weak under his hands and thin. He slapped his cheeks lightly. 'Wake up! Wake up! Brother!' He sounded frantic. _

_The red hair man's head flopped forward a little but other than that he didn't respond. England gave up and move to his back again to check out the extent of the damage. If he was human, he would have been died. Scotland seemed dead. He couldn't get over it. The last month when Scotland had been missing, he was actually being… this entire time… a whole month with little food and sleep… _

_He looked away in disgust. He was disgusted by the state of Scotland's back, by his boss's behaviour and by the fact he had let it all happen. He reached out a thin finger and gingerly stroke the jagged edge of a particularly deep gasp by his shoulder blade. Scotland's eyes widened as a single spark of life and pain shot through his body and eyes. His back had arched backwards as he screamed out in pain. England jumped back as his brother suddenly bellowed. He suddenly leaned forward, resting his head and arms on his knees, still screaming but not as nearly as loud as the first scream. His body was shaking uncontrollably as pain pumped through his body in steady bursts of heated agony. England was shocked. It was the first time he had heard Scotland scream like that or anyone really…. England slid to the floor, watching in stunned silence as the screams quietened down into strange strangled noises then into gurgles and finally into gentle sobs. This was the first time he had seen his brother cry as well… Tears streamed down England's face as he fully absorbed what he had done… This man wasn't his brother...He had let his boss kill his brother… Scotland was suppressed but at the cost of his brother and all Jacobites and resistors who stood up for their culture… _

_He was horrified with himself. _

_He stood up shakily and left through the door in a hurry, glancing at his brother who had tilted his head up slightly. His eyes were dead again but they still produced an endless supply of tears. He had argued with his boss that day. His boss insisted that it was necessary. If they ever wanted the Scots to behave and not start another rebellion, they needed Scotland suppressed. And the only way to do that was to crush their country's morals, by whatever means possible…._

Of course, he spared the detail description of the scene and simply said. "His back was covered in so much blood….He was beaten until he was dead on the inside."

America looked away suddenly and England felt a stab of pain in his chest. France spoke up suddenly, sounding surprisingly and unusually kind and sympathetic.

"Angleterre… L'Ecosse iz still here and clearly alive. Zat'z all zat countz…" England looked up in surprised at France.

"Frog face…." France continued (unfortunately - he should have stopped at that...)

"Mon Cherie iz strong! He iz okay. I juzt know it! We shall find him. Then me and L'Ecosse have ze passionate night together!"

"FROG FACE! You will not take advantage of my brother while he is injured!"

"Tu are injured too. How about ze troisome?"

"Erse!" A punch from Ireland hit France against the back of his head.

"Ow!" "Stop tryin' ta fool erround with me brothers!"

"Seriously Francy… ye always afta some tail..." North Ireland grinned. Ireland was glaring with his fist raised in a threat. It seems that Ireland released his brother to hit France.

**(A/N - A point to be made. Scotland isn't a weakling, he was badly injured when he was capture. He was locked up in a room inside England's fort for a while and was tortured a little. Then suddenly he disappeared from the fort for a month, during which his back was continuousy hit simply to cause pain and scars. He was basically chainned to the wall by his wrists and whipped and whacked repeatably. Things like hot welding rods, spiked whips, maces and swords were used. He had little food and water and wouldn't be able to sleep due to the pain. In other words it was very bloody and horrific. It lasted a month because that was how long it took to break Scotland's will power. England pointed out that Scotland spoke mainly in Gaelic but after that he was forced to speak English. Scotland became better after a very long time but he still loss a huge chunk of his precious culture, including Gaelic**.

**And yeah... France is a big pervert... Even with his close friends or enemies... **

**PLEASE REVIEW)  
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	10. Story 1 Chapter 10

**(Finally the third part!)**

Wales rushed onto the scene, just as North Ireland had spoken up. England saw Wales, and tried to ignore the dragon clinging to Wales.

"Wales! Where's Scotland?" The blond was breathing heavily from the long sprint.

"C-c-CAR!"

A sprint that involved Ireland carrying England, much to Ireland's displeasure, and North Ireland carrying America, much to America's displeasure, the six men arrived at the garage, just in time for the previously stated scene where France crys out in quite a girly way.

America tried to squirmed out of North Ireland's arms who happily set him down. "Not cool, dude! Heroes are not carried! Heroes carry the injured!" He fumed, his pride being hurt. England rolled his eyes, while Ireland thought about whether to drop England or not. North Ireland laughed.

"But ye are injured yerself."

"Not badly!" North Ireland gave America a soft shove and America swayed heavily before falling.

"Ye are suffering from blood loss like me brother… ye have tha possibility of a cooncussion~", pointing at the bandage wrapped tightly around the blonds' head, "~and your nose is broken." He pointed at his nose next.

America may have not noticed this but the seven hours he spent in the car, allowed his head wound to seep slowly so that he was weak now and his nose and eyes were beginning to swell, turning from red to blue and black. America's eyes were still swirling as he sat dizzily on the ground, suddenly remembering his own injuries and how serious they actually were.

North Ireland turned to Wales. "Any ideas ta Al…Scotland's whereaboots?" He sounded worried and concerned as his full attention turned back to the missing Scotsman. He tried to avoid using Scotland's nickname in hopes that America will eventually forget it.

"Nae… The fairies who told me about him taking the car ne'er saw where he went…" Ireland frowned and England, who was blushing slightly from embarrassment, matched that frown. England spoke next.

"Let's split up into teams again and each searches a likely location. We shall keep the team we had earli~"

"Nar Way!" Ireland interrupted, placing England down at the same time. "I donnae wanne North Ireland near America withoot me there, supervising!" England thought about this a moment. It was a reasonable argument…

"Very well. France go with North Ireland and America with Ireland."

"And who are ye gonna go wit'?" Ireland asked.

"Myself, of course. The more teams we have, the quicker we shall find our missing brother. Since we are his brothers, we know the land more so we shou~"

"Mon petit Angleterre! I disagree! I know L'Ecosse far more than you!" England sighed irritatbly.

"Fine! We shall spilt into five teams! France; Ireland and America; North Ireland; Wales. Does anyone disagree?" He crossed his arms. Everyone shook his head apart from Wales.

"Umm… England?... How will ye be tra'eling? We only hav' 3 cars." England paused.

"You and I could get a taxi and the others can use their own cars." Wales nodded.

"Aye but I will use somethin' else other than a taxi." England nodded, understanding what his brother meant. Wales smiled faintly and turned to the dragon which clung to his back, visable to only the brothers. He whispered something in Welsh to it and it grinned a row of jagged teeth before taking flight. France and America were confused by the sudden and strange burst of wind that came from its wings but choose to ignore it. Weird things happened in the UK all the time.

England got out his phone and dialled a number for a taxi. He hung up seconds later. "The taxi will be in 15 minutes. Okay?"

"Aye!/Aye./…./Yeah!/Oui." **(A/N - Contest – who can guess the order of who said the 'yes's!)**

"Good. Everyone pick a place where you think Scotland might be. North Ireland spoke first.

"I'll check all the pubs in a 10 mile radius!" England face-palmed but accepted it.

"Fine…." Wales spoke quietly next.

"Me and ma friends will check the Highlands and around Loch Ness… away from the cities…." America spoke up next.

"Me and Ireland will check the amusement parks! OW!" America was flicked on his forehead by Ireland.

"We will check Edinburgh, tha's his capital afta all…" France thought in concentration.

"Oui, then I shall check ze castles, I guess…"

"Right. Now that that's sorted we can get to work. We will meet back here at Midday tomorrow in about 10 hours time."

"What will we do if we can't find him?" asked America. North Ireland grinned and held out a hand to help the American to his feet.

"Donnae make a fuss. Alba wasnae any gud at 'Ley di oh'! All ye had ta do was cry oot something like 'Alba is a erse!' then he would begin ta howler back at ya." He laughed as he remembered playing with his brothers. "Ireland was worst though! Ye barely needed ta howler at 'im before he skite into a radge!" Ireland blushed heavily.

"Shut up ye bassa! Ya and England were tha same too!"

"Aye but we dinnae needed so wee insults! Wales was the only good one! He was real sleekit. Tryin' ta find him was like trying ta find rocking horse shite!" Wales scowled at that.

"That's just because I can keep ma mooth shut…." He murmured while Ireland and North Ireland laughed at him.

"Aye and Scotland was always trying ta find máthair ! Always chasing her and running after her. He would run to her all tha time!" Ireland clipped North Ireland on the back of the head, signalling him to shut up. The dragon returned and Wales nodded.

"Me trunsport is here…" He left without really saying good bye. England sighed at that. North Ireland waved happily after Wales who headed away from the cars and the castle.

"Bye!~" France and America looked at the disappearing country confused by the direction he was heading in.

North Ireland then turned on his heels and ran to his motor bike. "Bye!" He hopped on and drove away, leaving the two motor cyclist helmets behind.

Ireland glared at them before picking them up. "Come on Yankee! Lets git this ova and doon wit'!" He muttered sourly under his breath. America just grinned goofly and patted him on the back.

"Heroes led the way dude!"

"Do ye even ken where Edinburgh is?"

"Nah but I can totally find it! Hero's instinct." Ireland just glared at him.

"I'm gonnae lead tha way because I gonnae be driving!" He snapped as the two entered the car. France smiled mischievously.

"Just tu wait my cher! France is coming! (scary….)"He ran to his car and soon England was left alone. He sighed tired.

The taxi drove into view and England smiled weakly. He slid into the back seat and the taxi driver looked back at him.

"Another one?" England looked at him in surprise. "Ahhh… I mean sorry old chap… It's just that you're the second bloke I've seen today with heavy injuries… Had to drive the poor chap all the way from London to here. Now that I think about it you look a little similar to him. Are you brothers?" England looked stunned.

"Was this injured man a red-hair?"

"Sure. His hair was bright red, he was covered in blood too, a stark contrast to his blue uniform. Quite a shocking sight as you can imagine. So where to governor?" England was busy thinking during the entire ramble. The information was useless though, they already knew that Scotland had come here but he had left here too.

"Was the man okay?" The taxi man smiled fondly.

"No, not really…. I think he was in a fight. Best I could tell, old chap, was that he had a nose bleed and a busted lip. There was a lot of blood on his shoulder too but I'm not sure from what…. One of his hands was swollen too… I think his worst problem was blood loss, he didn't seem to have a lot of bruises or hits on him." England smiled a little.

"So he is still alive…"

"Yes, but he needs to go to hospital, he seemed a little unbalance coming out of the car… Probably fainted not long after he left…" England's smile disappeared. Scotland was driving a car. Fainting behind the wheel could lead to a serious car crash.

"So where to Governor?"

"To…" England suddenly realised that he actually had no idea to search for Scotland. He thought back to the conversation just before the others left.

North Ireland was gong to the pubs, but he don't Scotland would go anywhere public or with crowds… Castles and cities didn't seem likely to him either so he doubted France or Ireland and America would find him… Wales might be onto something but checking the Highlands but that could take forever, even with a few dragons to help. He was still playing the conversation in his head, up to the bit about 'hide and seek'. Suddenly North Ireland's mention of their mother crossed his mind.

He could not remember his mother well, she died shortly after he was born, but he could remember that she was beautiful, though not what she looked like, and how much his brother loved her. He would always be trying to impress her or follow her and when he was upset, he would always run to her first. Their mother was dead of course and it was impossible for his brother to run into her embrace but there was somewhere he could go…. His brothers probably wouldn't have thought about it. Scotland rarely went there though he wasn't sure why Scotland avoided the place. England had only been there once or twice himself.

He didn't feel any particularly strong attachment to his supposed mother, barely remembering who she is or what she was like. The only people he considered to be his family was his brothers though he guessed it was different for other four, especially Scotland and Ireland, the two oldest by a few years. North Ireland probably remembered quite a bit too but he couldn't be sure. Wales was not much older than him so only remembered a little too. Scotland would remember her and have a strong attachment to her, even if he seemed to hide it, and the fact he always used to run to her when troubled showed how much he loved her. He was sure he would be there.

"Where to Governor?" England snapped back into reality.

"Oh right! Sorry about that, chap. I was distracted." He gave the driver directions.

It was a remote location with no landmarks or importance and very hard to find unless you know where. It was about an hour away but he was too nervous to sit still for that time. His pocket buzzed and he pulled out his phone. He had forgotten about it. Rather than checking the text and replying immediately like he would usually do, he called Scotland's number. He was mental face palming as to why he didn't think about phoning him earlier.

The phone rang for a few seconds before the other end picked out the phone. He smiled as his brother picked up and the English man was just about to speak before his Scotland hung up. He dialled again. But once again the phone was answered then hung up instantly. He grumbled annoyed before ringing again. This time though the red-head didn't pick up. England frowned. Why wasn't he picking up now? Did he collapse? Or something worst….

England felt panicked.

"Excuse me driver! This is an emercency! Please drive faster!" The driver frowned.

"But the speed limit…"

"Please! I will pay you triple!" The driver though for a moment.

"Okay. I can get us there in 30 minutes instead of an hour." Good. England leaned back in his seat and cringed. His injuries were beginning to ache. Scotland's punches always began to hurt 24 hours after being received. He guessed that in a few hours, he was going to turn black and blue all over his body. America was going to be worst…. He looked horrible just after the fight in a day or two he was going to look…. He doubted that the young blonde American was going to be able to go to the next world meeting….

**(A/N - Finally! The 6000 word chapter is done! Splitting it into three parts was a wise idea I decided after all the time it took me to edit it... **

**Sigh - I had been planning to do a story based on and mixed in with the Royal Wedding... I will still it but it will take like a week to write it so it will be kinda late... ^^'It will probably be a two-shot but it might be longer or shorter depending on how lazy I am. (Probably longer - once I start writing it is impossible for me to stop... More problematic than you think...) Plus I got like three other Scotland story ideas... and only one of them is a one-shot... **

**Translations (Irish Gaelic as it was North Ireland speaking. Yeah that's right! Scottish Gaelic and Irish Gaelic are different languages and I have been careful to make sure that each country uses it's own gaelic! Harder than you think btw.)**

**máthair - mother**

**Translations (Accent translations this time)**

**Ley di oh - A Scottish game similar to hide and seek**

**skite - lost or lose control, skid**

**sleekit - sly**

**rocking horse shite - something very rare and hard to thing  
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**REVIEW PLEASE! Cause getting reviews makes me work more!)  
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	11. Story 1 Chapter 11

**Graveside Dream**

His surroundings were cold.

Very cold.

And wet.

And dark.

He didn't mind though. He was used to this weather, it's what he grew up in. He sat against a huge semi-circular, rough looking rock. (grave stone shaped but only the top circular of a grave stone) It looked like someone had tried to shape it a little but had never properly carved stone before so it resulted in having bumps and missing chunks. He never actually minded this; it made it look more unique and interesting he thought.

Personalised and special….

His back was against metal though, not rock. On one side of this huge rock, which came up to Scotland's shoulders when he was standing, a large perfectly flat and even semi-circular sheet of metal which covered about ¾ of the side leaving a rocky border to the place. Around this metal plate were metal sculptures of four different types of flowers intertwining. This includes the rose, the daffodil, the shamrock (3-leafed clover) and the thistle. They were beautifully crafted and looked detail and fragile but were actually very sturdy. Moss covered the ground around the stone but didn't touch the huge rock at all. It looked like someone regularly cleaned the stone and kept any moss from staining or spoiling the beauty of the big rock.

On the metal plage were four columns of writing. 'Britannia' was the first line of each column and from left to right the second line read 'Màthair', 'Máthair', 'Mam' and finally 'Mater'. The lines continued in a similar pattern. Each column seem to say the same thing but in different languages except for the last part.

The feel of cold, smooth metal on his back was strangely comforting. His eyes were closed as he absorbed the in the tranquil surroundings. He smiled gently, feeling warm and strangely content despite where he was. Though he suspected that was due to his blood loss. He doubted he was going to die though, countries were sturdy people and it took a lot to end their life. He guessed he would probably survive too even if he was human though. A couple of broken rips, a broken knuckle and a little bit of blood loss wouldn't be enough to bring him down even if he was a human. He had been though a lot, lot worse.

He felt himself drifting in and out of conscious as he lay in the coolness of the night against the grave stone of his mother.

He missed her. A lot. He loved her more than anything and was the closest son to her. In his eyes, she seemed perfect. A goddess. She was the only person he had ever looked up to and was devastated when she died. It broke his heart to bury the beauty of his mother under this filthy mud, though she loved the earth. Though he would never admit this to anyone, especially his younger brothers. He always felt that he must be a strong leader for his brothers and never show any weakness or fault. It was stupid, he knew that, but he couldn't help it. He even tried to avoid publically visiting the grave, sneaking off in secret to see it. He hated himself for that but he was stubborn.

His eyes opened sluggishly as he heard the wail of bagpipes rang loudly. He looked around confused to why someone would be playing bagpipes out here, which to humans was consider the middle of nowhere. It was near impossible to accidently stumble upon too as the place was surrounded by marshy bog land. Step in the wrong place and you are waist deep in smelly peat and filth.

Only the five brothers knew how to get here safely unless you counted the mythical creatures that were magically drawn to this place. It was a place with strong magic qualities and runes.

His pocket vibrated and he suddenly recognised the bagpipes as his own ringtone. He picked it up and hanged up again immediately without looking at the number. He didn't want some modern plastic contraption disturbing the peace and magic of this completely isolated place.

He was about to place it in his pocket again when it rang again. He did the same thing again.

And to his annoyance it ran again.

Fed up with the noisy thing, he threw it angrily into the distance and heard it plop as it hit the watery marsh. Its tune was soon drowned out.

He sighed and moved his body a little. It was stiff from lying down for a while. To be honest he had only been here just over hour but it felt like only 5 minutes to him.

He leaned forward and drew his knees up to his chest. He leaned his head on his arms for a few minutes. He looked up again and squinted into the dark. He couldn't see any stars tonight. He sighed again but gruffly this time. His body was in agony but it was turning numb now. 'Gud' he thought. He flopped backwards again lazily, hitting the grave more roughly than he had intended. Pain shot from the cut on his shoulder and buzzed in his body, causing him to gasp out in surprise a little.

He suspected that the wound might have opened again. His bruises had already darkened and were beginning to lighten again. His nose and lip had closed up during the car ride so now only the cut was opened. He was thankful for being a very quick healer though it made him feel more exhausted than most. He remembered packing moss on his shoulder earlier to stop the blood. He had even used some of the left over moss to wipe his face clean of all the blood. Most of it had been his but some of it belonged to that 'blondie American idjit.' He didn't want to drag that man's blood to this place. He respected and treasured it too much to taint it with some brat's blood.

Fog had begun to roll in and surround the place with thick billowing swirls of condensed water. It wasn't long before the place was completely hidden under the freezing mist. It comforted him a little.

"Màthair. Ciamar a tha sibh_?..." _He paused as if waiting for the rock to reply. After a while he continued again.

_"I'm nae doing too good. I think I failed ye…" _He closed his eyes and nestled back into the stone more as if burrowing into someone's arms. "_I know ye left me in charge of my _bráithreacha_ , in particular England…. Ye told me to make sure he grew up big and strong and that he had lots of love…. _Tha mi duilich_ … I could only do tha first part but only if I didn't do the second part…. I'm a lousy_ bráthair…_ At least he grew up big and strong…." _His breathing began to settle as he started to fade into sleep again. He could only murmur a couple more times before falling unconscious. "Tha mi duilich Màthair…. Tha mi duilich_ …. _Tha gaol agam ort._ … and wee Iggy and all my_ bráithreacha_… _Tha mi duilich_ …"_

He didn't dream a lot. Partly because it's impossible to dream in a drunken blackout but even though he hadn't been drinking a lot recently (due to finical difficulties), he still didn't dream much. He always preferred it that way, a peaceful sleep not disturbed by dreams or nightmares, but sometimes he wished he did dream. It was sometimes a chance to find out more about his self or to remember happier times.

When he did dream though, it wasn't uncommon for him to dream about his brothers, recent or especially bad parts of his history, the mythical animals and people he knew. It was rare for him to dream about events more than 1000 years ago to his teenage years. It was rarer still to dream back to before the Roman Empire to his childhood and his shared history with all of his brothers. But the rarest dreams, the one he nearly never had but wished he had a lot more often, were dreams that involved his beloved mother.

This dream was about his mother.

He stood at the entrance to a clearing in a forest. It was scarily familiar to him. He looked around, not moving from his spot. It was about 50m in diameter, had two or three large boulders in around its edge. In the middle was a large scorch area from an old open fire. He searched his mind for this memory. He lacked imagination so knew that this was something from his past. Maybe it's about one of his camping trips or a time when he was locked outside his house he thought. It felt older than that though. It seemed very far back in time compared to his regular dreams.

Suddenly a high pitch voice screamed behind him.

"MÀTHAIR!"

He turned in surprise as a very short red head burst from the bush beside him. He was grinning and only in his toddler years. He wore a bright blue cloak, a white dress and small cloth booties on his feet. The 2 year old only came up to his knee. Scotland's mouth opened at the sight. The toddler grew as he ran across the clearing. Soon he was a 7 year old, he wore a long sleeve shirt and ¾ length trousers and proper leather boots now but he still had the bright blue cloak.

Another voice came from behind him.

"ALBA! Wait up!"

A short 3 year old auburn came from the bush, like Scotland. He wore the same clothes the toddler Scotland had worn but his cloak was a light green. He soon begin aging too as he ran after the red head, laughing. The young Ireland had only aged one year before another voice rang out.

"ALBA! BRÁTHAIR!" North Ireland wore the exact same as Ireland when he emerged, even the cloaks were the same shade of light green. They aged as they ran across the clearing. When Ireland became five, he wore a long sleeve shirt and shorts and leather boots. North Ireland wore a short sleeve shirt and shorts with leather boots as he turned five as well. All three of them remained in their cloaks.

When Scotland was 10 and Ireland was 6 with North Ireland just turning 5, a quiet voice came from the bush. He knew who to expect.

"Mam! Alba! North Ireland! Ireland!"

A 2 year old blonde rushed out with a dark red cloak. He was quieter than the others but still smiled slightly.

"ALBA!"

The toddler Wales had barely left the bush when he was followed by another 2 year old blonde in a dark green cloak.

The five brothers aged as they ran across the field, laughing wildly and grinning in pure bliss. Their clothes changed with their ages but their cloaks remained constant. It seemed that he was invisible to them.

Scotland felt a pang of pain and regret as he saw the scene. They were truly happy back then. They were wild and acted like animals and sometimes fought but they were close and loved each other deeply. He watched his younger self, wondering when he had last smiled like that. They still continued aging until Scotland reached 12, Ireland was 8, North Ireland was 7, and Wales and England were both 4. They stopped growing. He wondered why they were running so quickly. The young Scotland suddenly called out again.

"Màthair!"

_Màthair? _He looked in the direction they were running in and he gasped.

A beautiful blonde woman stood at the other end of the clearing with her arms spread for the children. She had a crown of thistles and a long flowing blue dress that seemed to be part of her. It appeared to be made from butterflies. Her skin was pale, fair and absolutely spotless. It was like soft snow, perfectly smooth and beautiful. Her hair was a pale blonde and long but tied up in a complicated plait and her eyes were a light green. She smiled so brightly and kindly that it hurt. Scotland didn't think. He only started running to her, forgetting that this was just a dream, that this was part of a different time. He sprinted as hard as he could.

"Máthair!"

"Mam!"

"Mater!"

There was choir of yells from the excited children. Scotland had soon caught up and passed them. They still didn't see him. When Scotland passed the children though, his mother suddenly saw him and smiled a little wider. She turned from her children to the older Scotland. He jumped into her arms and hugged her as tight as he could. The world around him faded and dripped away into blackness so it was just him and his mother, standing in a small circle of grass. He burst into tears like a small child again and wept into her shoulder. He felt no shame in the dream.

She hugged him back gently and soothed him until he was calm again. She wiped away his tears. He fell to his knees and leaned into her. She held his head in her arms and looked down at him, lovingly.

"Mo mhac…" Her voice was gentle and soothing and Scotland was completely under its spell.

"Màthair…" His voice was quiet as he stared up into her eyes. He was charmed and could only stare, semi-consciously at her with a blank face. He couldn't believe this. He had forgotten this was only a dream and had gone completely numb with happiness.

"Tha gaol agam ort." He murmured, sounding utterly intoxicated. She looked at him smiling in reply She kissed his forehead. Scotland was a completely different person with his mother. He stared at her smile before mumbling again.

"Tha mi duilich." Her smile disappeared to be replaced by tears. They swelled at the corner of her eyes but didn't fall down her cheeks. Scotland felt confused. "Màthair?..." He gave a small frown as she hugged him to her. She looked sad to hear Scotland apologise.

"Mo mhac. Scotland." He perked up when she said his name. She sounded so lovingly when she said it but also very sad. Scotland felt his heart break at how sad and lonely the tone was. He tried to speak but his voice was lost. She continued.

_"Don't say that. I should be the one to say t_ha mi duilich. _… That was my second last wish for you and your_ bráithreacha_. You didn't fail me. Your _bráithreacha_ are all grown up, healthy and strong. You did well _Mo mhac. _I'm proud of you."_

_"_Màthair…"

_"I also don't regret my final wish for you either…" _Scotland gulped. He didn't want to think about her final wish… He didn't even tell his brothers about it… He had lied to them and told them that the last wish was to take care of them, especially England. But in truth that was the second last wish…

_"Scotland. I have another final wish. Please promise me that...~" _

"Scotland!" _Huh?_ A foreign voice interrupted the dream. He panicked as the world he was in became to slip away. He looked up to his mother again but she was gone. He found himself on his feet suddenly, looking around panicked for her. He saw her in the distance with her arms around a 10 year old Scotland. The young Scotland stared at him confused by the image of his older self. His attention was soon grabbed by the beautiful blonde again though.

"Scotland! Wake up!" The panicked voice shook the world again and the dream dissolved farther.

He sighed, knowing this perfect world was ending. His loving expression turned into one of acceptance. His mother continued to stare at him though and he stared back sadly but accepting. Back into her beautiful light emerald green eyes.

"Wake up you git!"

Scotland closed his eyes and opened them again to stare into the same light green eyes. They were staring right into his and so close to his. Without thinking, Scotland moved his arms forward and wrapped his arms around the person who owned them, pulling them down into his chest. "Wait!.. What? OWW!" He held the person tightly to his chest and whispered quietly in to their ear.

_"_Màthair…"

"What are you doing you wanker? OW!" The person struggled against him but he didn't notice before falling unconscious again.

This time though, he didn't dream.

**(A/N - Lots of gaelic...**

**I'm so disappointed with myself! I couldn't find all of the Gaelic words I wanted to find! So any English spoken word in **_**Italics**_** is meant to be Gaelic! I'm sorry.**

**Translations Time! **

**Màthair (Scottish Gaelic) - Mother**

**Máthair (Irish Gaelic) - Mother**

**Mam (Welsh) - Mother**

**Mater (Latin) - Mother**

**(I made England speak Latin as his early native language as that is one of the main roots of modern English.)**

**Bráithreacha (Scottish Gaelic) - Brothers**

**Bráthair (Scottish Gaelic) - Brother**

**Tha mi duilich. (Scottish Gaelic) - I'm sorry.**

**Tha gaol agam ort. (Scottish Gaelic) - I love you.**

**Ciamar a tha sibh? (Scottish Gaelic) - How are you?**

**Mo mhac (Scottish Gaelic) - My son**

**Brittannia - Yep in my head canon, Brittannia and England look almost exactly the same. Of course England doesn't know this. She is very connected to the land and anything magical. The mythical animals loved her and did what ever she asked them too. The mythical animals follow England and his brothers because they feel obliged because of their mother. She was very powerful. She loved all her sons very much but after Wales and England were born, she was alot more busy and had hardly anu time for her sons. The boys were mainly raised by mythical animals and then Scotland when he was old enough.**

**This is what Brittannia looks like:**

**h t t p : / / w w w . z e r o c h a n . n e t / 4 2 6 4 4 3**

**Just remove all the spaces. There is a space between every letters btw.**

**Age time! (Me explaining their human ages and basic time line for their child hoods according to moi)**

**Scotland -**

**He was born into the world as a two year old. (Don't complain! America was four when he was discovered!)**

**He was 7 when Ireland was born, 8 when North Ireland was born and 10 when Wales and England were born**

**He was 12 when Britannia died and England and Wales was captured by the Roman Empire **

**He was 14 when the Roman Empire left.**

**He is 30 years old now.**

**Ireland -**

**He was born into the world as a three year old.**

**He was 4 when North Ireland was born, 6 when Wales and England were born.**

**He was 8 when Britannia died and England and Wales was captured. He was sent away along with North Ireland right after Wales was captured by Scotland to protect them. **

**He was 10 when the Roman Empire left.**

**He is 26 years old now.**

**North Ireland - **

**He was born into the world as a three year old.**

**He was 5 when Wales and England were born.**

**He was 7 when Britannia died and England and Wales was captured. He was sent away along with Ireland right after Wales was captured by Scotland to protect them.**

**He was 9 when the Roman Empire left.**

**He is 25 years old now.**

**Wales - **

**He was born into the world as a two year old.**

**He was still 2 when England was born. (He and England are only 6 months apart in human years)**

**He was 4 when Britannia died and when he was captured by the Roman Empire.**

**He was 6 when the Roman Empire left.**

**He is 23 years old now. (But will be 24 years old very soon - there will be a birthday party one-shot later!)**

**England - **

**He was born into the world as a two year old.**

**He was 4 when Britannia died and he was captured by the Roman Empire.**

**He was 6 when the Roman Empire left.**

**He is 23 years old now.**

**REVIEW! I need motivation!)**


	12. Story 1 Chapter 12

**Wake up!**

England had arrived at a muddy road side, to the driver's surprise at the location and his clothes.

A blue convertible was already badly parked at the road side, tilting slightly as one of the wheels had half gone into a shallow ditch. He sighed. Why Scotland owned a car with a removable roof in a country that always rains England would never know.

He paid the driver what he promised exactly. The drive had taken only 20 minutes because of the lack of traffic at 3 o'clock in the morning and the fact that they went over double the speed limit. The driver offered to help him to his destination after England almost collapsed, exiting the car but he refused. He made his way blindly into the darkness.

The place was blanketed with fog. He barely knew where he was going or if he had to the right place to begin with. The last time he was here was just after the Roman Empire left and he had gotten lost then. Luckily a glowing orb floated into view. It was a small delicate fairy with a lantern.

"Oh! Mister England! We didn't expect you to come ever visit here! Did you come to see Mister Scotland?"

"So Scotland is here?"

"Yes but he is much, much farther in. At the end of the path."

"Can you show me, please?"

"Of course! But I don't know the safe way for humans! I just fly over the bog ground."

"Oh… It can't be that bad, can it?"

"If you step in a bad place, you might end waist deep in mud. I'm sorry sir! Wait here and I will find someone else to guide you!" She flew off, leaving England along in the darkness in PJs and slippers. He wished she at least left him the small lantern. He shivered. His PJs were cotton and fairly warm but the mist clung to his skin and dampened the clothes and it was chilly.

He felt awkward, being alone in the dark but to his joy, the light returned with a couple of lights that walked along the ground. The fairy reappeared happily, with a young elf and a much older frowning elf. The old elf spoke in an annoyed voice.

"Sir, this fairy says you wish to see your mother's grave?" England kneeled down a little and tears came to his eyes from the pain. He was trying to be friendly to make the elf less grumpy.

"Yes. My brother should be there." The fairy buzzed excitably.

"See! I got good help, didn't I? Mr England!" England smiled at her sweetly.

"Yes, you did. I thank you." The fairy giggled happily before disappearing into the fog again. England stood up straight again, swearing a little under his breath at the pain. The older elf beckoned with his finger and the young elf, hung close to him. England followed after him.

"Is Scotland okay?" The older elf raised an eyebrow at him.

"That is a stupid question sir…" The blonde country looked surprised. Magical animals usually loved him and treated him with respect but this old elf seemed to be angry at him. "Of course he is not well. We have treated some of his wounds and cleaned him up but he will need to rest for a couple of days..."

"Only a couple of days?" England blurted out without thinking. He had seen the extent of Scotland's injuries, they had been really serious. The old elf sighed angrily.

"Yes. A week at the most. Mister Scotland is a fast healer because of Miss Britannia." The elf said Britannia's name as if in love. The young elf smiled at this and suppressed a small giggle.

"Because of his mother?" The elf stopped walking and looked England up and down, analysing before continuing showing the way.

"Miss Britannia is your mother too."

"I know."

The elf replied loudly and angrily. "Well act like you know then! You stupid brat! You are just too foolish to realise how powerful and magical her blood is! Yet do you thank her? She bore and raised you, gave you her body so you could be a damn country but you can't even be bothered visiting her grave! Ungrateful bastard!"

England was stunned by the small rant. He was starting to feel guilty now for ignoring this place for so long. The young elf talked for the first time.

"Grandfather is right even if his language was unnecessary." England mumbled an apology to which the old elf tsked at and told him to stay it to his mother. He was still curious about something though.

"How is our mother helping Scotland heal then? She has been dead for over a two millennia."

"I told you. It's in the blood. Your mother was very powerful and skilled at magic. Mister Scotland inherited this. As did you."

"He's performing magic? In that condition?"

"It's sub conscious."

The young elf spoke up to explain. "Out of the five of you, Scotland inherited the most magic qualities, then it is Wales, then you, sir, then North Ireland and Ireland who received the same amount."

"Huh. I didn't know that…"

"Pfft! That's because you never think about your roots!"

"Grandfather. You can lecture the boy but be politer. He is Britannia's son."

"Tsk! Don't remind me…" He mumbled quietly.

The young elf smiled slightly and looked up at England who was suddenly interested in his brother's magic. He knew that they used magic like him but he had assumed that they were at the same level. England asked the younger elf as he seemed to be the friendlier one of the two.

"Does this mean I use magic subconsciously too?"

"No. I highly doubt that, Sir. You do not need to worry about such things."

"But sometimes when I wake up… something magical has happened…"

"That's mainly because you were intoxicated, you brat. You were awake when you preformed the magic, you just can't remember it because you were bloody drunk."

"Yes. You should more careful of human spirits, Mister England. They affect your physical and mental health." England paused.

"You said worried before… Why would I be worried if I did use magic subconsciously? It would mean that I am powerful right? That would be a good thing." The young elf studied the blonde country now, with a small frown.

"Yes it would mean that you are powerful… However you would not be able to control what happens. It would be very dangerous for you and anyone around you." England looked ahead into the fog; the atmosphere was humming with energy. He felt his body tingle with power.

"Then what about Scotland?"

"Mr Scotland was blessed by Miss Britannia. To help him through life, she placed a magic limiter on him. It's a powerful seal that controls his magic levels. It weakens him a lot but at least it stops him from using magic subconsciously."

"But you just said he was using magic!" England countered.

"He is but that is because this place amplifies magic. Have you not felt stronger since arriving here?" England looked surprised. He had felt a lot stronger but he had assumed that he had hit his second wind. "The seal cannot cope with the increase in Mister Scotland's power so it doesn't work here."

"Oh. Does that mean he is dangerous at the moment?" He sounded worried. He didn't limp all the way here, just to be accidently cursed by his annoying, injured older brother who he had come to rescue.

"Potentially but the Fae are keeping him calm. They have been keeping him content and emotionally stable."

"Emotionally stable?"

"Yes. Emotions have a strong effect on how your magic acts. When you are angry, your magic has a negative effect that is usually rage engulfed and difficult to control. When you happy, your magic is more controllably and positive, it effects the surroundings in a better way."

"So you are keeping Scotland calm, to control his magic more?"

"Exactly, Sir."

They fell into silence now. They walked for another 15 minutes.

"Is he much farther ahead?" He sounded exhausted and in pain. His body was stressed and he was fed up with this damn fog that seemed to be endless.

"Only 5 minutes. Be patient!" The older elf snapped.

"Why is it so damn foggy?..." England complained in a grumpy tone. He was annoyed and angry with the long, blind walk.

"Mister Scotland wishes to hid so this fog was summoned. It is unintentional."

"Scotland summoned all this fog?" There was a ridiculously huge amount of fog. He knew that this place increased magical powers but this was insane.

"Yes.…"

They fell into another silence as a large round silhouette appeared. England squinted his eyes and stepped forward. The fog disappeared from his body suddenly. He stood on flat grassy land which was surrounded by a perfectly circular circle of fog. In the middle was a huge rock, decorated with metal flowers and against it leant a man with scarlet hair. His brother was surrounded by tiny fairies who buzzed around his head, panicked. His clothes were cleaned of all blood and he looked peacefully asleep. At least he almost did. On his cheeks were the faint glistening of tears running down his cheeks.

By his side, holding him gently in her arms, sat a shimmering blonde women in a blue dress. She was beautiful and horribly familiar; he swore she looked like him. Her outline was fuzzy though like she didn't really exist; it seemed she was just a hallucination brought to life by magic. England called out when he saw his brother, rushing over to him.

"Scotland?" The beautiful blonde mirage gasped as she was snuffed out of existence. Scotland's eyes flickered slightly as he began to wake up. He yelled louder.

"Wake up Scotland!" The Scotsman groaned as he woke up. England knelt in front of Scotland, with his face almost touching Scotland's.

"Wake up you git!" Scotland's eyes opened completely at the insult. His eyes widened at how close England was before his hands moved forward. England thought for a moment that he was going to be punched. He panicked and tried to move away but Scotland already had his arms around him.

"Wait!.. What? OWW!" To his surprise, he was pulled into a big hug. To his dismay, his brother was hugging him too tightly and it hurt like hell. He felt his brother whisper something quietly into his ear.

"Màthair…" He could feel his brother falling back to sleep. England tried struggling against him and yelling.

"What are you doing you wanker? OW!" Movement only caused him more pain. Scotland's breathing settled as he fell back to sleep.

"You could have at least let me go before falling asleep again!" He gave up when his body refused to move anymore. He looked up to his brother's face. He was still crying but it was more of a small tickle of water running from his eyes than proper tears. He looked happy anyway. The fairies seemed worried by the tiny tears. England was too annoyed at being trapped unwillingly by his brother.

"Help me!"

"We can't! Scotland is too deeply asleep!" Some of them wiped up the tears, which were slowly coming to a stop. He had rarely seen his brother cry. He guessed that this was probably only the third time in his whole life.

"… Why is he crying? I thought you guys were helping him stay happy…"

"We were!" They replied annoyed. "But then he began dreaming about his mother! Then he began crying!"

"He is having a nightmare?"

"No. He was having a good dream about Miss Britannia before you woke him up. He isn't dreaming at the moment."

"Then why was he crying!" England was frustrated. "If he is having a dream about Britannia and he is happy then why was he crying?" The fairies sighed.

The elves, who had guided him here, approached him. The older one looked at him in a criticising glare.

"I see that Mister England has already got himself into trouble." England glared at him. The young elf coughed to grab his attention. England looked at him with a slightly softer gaze.

"Sir? You don't seem to understand your brother, do you?" He snorted.

"Of course not! Why should I? He doesn't understand me either." The elf shook his head like in regret.

"You may not know Mister Scotland well but he knows you very well. Scotland understands you completely." England rolled his eyes. "It's true." England still looked unconvinced so the elf tried a different approached.

"You know, Mister England…. Nightmares aren't always bad dreams about hard or bitter times; sometimes a nightmare is dreaming about very happy and pleasant memories then waking up, back to reality. He may have had a good dream but it is still a nightmare to Mister Scotland; having to wake up afterwards." England listened carefully before looking at Scotland again. He had never thought about what his brother would consider a nightmare.

"I think I understand…" Scotland had stopped crying completely. His smile was gone too though and he looked relaxed. They had told him that he wasn't dreaming.

The fairies were treating his wounds now. They could only treat a couple of his injuries with Scotland was holding his body to him. After a while, his body was becoming stiff and numb and he was freezing. He finally couldn't bare the uncomfortable position any longer.

"Hey Scotland… Scotland… SCOTLAND!" He didn't respond.

"WAKE UP!" Nothing happened again.

"Hey! Why isn't he waking up?" He demanded.

"He's too tired sir." A fairy answered.

"How long has he been asleep?"

"Two hours…"

"Well he should be fine! WAKE UP SCOTLAND!"

"Mister England! Please don't disturb him! He is probably exhausted!"

"How can he be tired? He slept in the taxi (The driver told him) for 5 hours and here for another 2 hours!" The fairy batted him on the head with her hand.

"Stop being so selfish!... Sorry for hitting you Sir but you need to be quiet. It's only natural that Mister Scotland is tired after healing and using so much magic."

"What?" The fairy petted him gently and brushed his blonde hair from his face.

"Have you noticed how Mister Scotland is a really fast healer but is always really sleepy afterwards. Not tired like a normal injured person but more exhausted." England nodded. He had noticed the fast healing and the excess tiredness. He never thought they were connected though. Exhaustion could easily be a symptom of his bad drinking habits.

"Well now he is healing super fast because of where we are but it's also making him super exhausted too!"

"So he won't wake up?"

"He might but only for a few minutes…" The fairy paused before continuing. "If you want him to wake up, you are going to have to move him away from here."

"Brilliant…"

**(A/N - **

**The reason why I made the magical order Scotland, Wales, England, Ireland and North Ireland.**

**CAUSE I COULD! Mwuhahahahaha!**

**Kidding (partly) - there is method to my madness. **

**Scotland is first as it matches my head canon of him being the closest to Brittannia. He is really strong.**

**Wales is the second because it makes sense to me. He is really close to dragons. He has one on his flag and everything. Dragons are really powerful so should Wales.**

**England is third as he looks like Britannia and because I don't want him to be the weakest magic user.**

**Ireland and North Ireland is tied fourth - mainly because one has a lousy temper and one has low attention span. Both of them only learned the basic magic.**

**REVIEW and England will hug you!)**


	13. Story 1 Chapter 13

**Arrival **

England gave up on moving and remained quiet for a while. He was beginning to feel better but he was still in pain. A fairy had cleaned up his bandages and the bottoms of his PJs and slippers which were muddy from the walk. The elves had left his side but were still close by, having a conversation with three gnomes. He looked around the place was littered with magical animals, hiding from the fog and drawn to the power.

Flying Mintgreen Bunny flew into view suddenly."Sir!"

"Flying Mintgreen Bunny! How are you?" This was the first good thing today for England.

"I'm fine! But you seem to be in pain…"

"It's okay old chap… I'll survive…"

"Did you come here looking for Mister Scotland alone?"

"Yes."

"That was odd. An injured man searching for another injured man by himself."

"Well, actually… my other brothers plus Frog-face and America are also looking…" Suddenly England remembered something. He shuffled around trying to reach his pocket. "Damn it Scotland! Loosen your grip at least!" The floating rabbit looked at him confused.

"Do you need help, Sir?"

"Yes. Could you get my phone please? It's in my pocket."

"Yes!" He sounded excited and ready to help. He placed the phone on Scotland's chest by England's ear.

"Thank you! Now can you phone either one of my brothers or America or France?"

"Yes Sir!" He pressed a couple of buttons randomly. He didn't really know how to use a phone properly but after a few helpful directions from England, Wales was eventually on the other end of the phone.

"ENGLAND? DID YOU FIND ALBA?" He could hear Wales shouting over a loud wind. He was obviously in the midst of a flight on top of a dragon.

"YES WALES!" England yelled back so Wales could hear him.

"YES! HE'S AT OUR MOTHER'S GRAVE! I'M WITH HIM NOW!"

"THAT'S GREAT! I'M JUST OVER INVERNESS! I'LL BE THERE IN 30 MINUTES!"

"GOOD! SEE YOU SOON! I'LL PHONE THE OTHERS TOO!"

Three phone calls later and everyone knew where to go. Wales was the closest while Ireland and America were the farthest away with a three hour drive ahead of them. Probably only one hour and half hours with Ireland behind the wheel. He was the second most dangerous driver in their family. North Ireland being the worst but only by one major car crash and two arrests….

England felt stiff and sore from the awkward position. "Hurry up Wales…." He groaned. His PJs were damp from walking through the fog but at least he didn't fell cold anymore. Scotland was keeping him warm at least with his forced hug.

After a while, a loud flapping sound could be heard from high above. Six huge reptilian beasts, the size of elephants, descended and landed around the giant grave stone. England stared in amazement. The most amount of dragons he had ever seen at once was 3 and two of them were much smaller breeds, the size of a big dogs. He had never seen such a magnificent sight. Wales slid off the largest one. It was a deep shade of red and looked like its scales were rubies. He patted it once on the side before bowing from the waist respectfully at each one. They replied with a small head nod before taking off again.

Wales turned and ran over to England and Scotland. "Hey Alba! Alba!"

He shook the red head's shoulder. When he didn't respond, he turned to England who was still lying on top of Scotland, trapped in his arms.

"England! Why won't Alba wake up?" He sounded panicked and was loud for once.

"It's exhaustion… we need to move him away from here to wake him up."

"What?"

"He's has sort of magic seal and since it's not working here, he's using too much magic and it's making him too exhausted to wake up."

"Ahh. I fergot aboot tha'…"

"You knew?"

"Of coorse."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" He demanded, angry at the secrecy.

"Cause ye neve' asked." He said simply. All of England's anger faded. It was true, he had never asked about their magic so how was he meant to know. It was his fault for not asking. "Now budge so I can move him." England sighed irritated.

"I can't…"

"Ye cannae?..."

"No. I can't! Scotland woke up for a few minutes when I arrived and wrapped his arms around me like a manic! He murmured something and fell back to sleep! Now I'm stuck in this wanker's arms!" He yelled angrily. Wales blinked. He noticed Scotland's arms wrapped tightly around England, pinning the blonde to his body helplessly. Wales grabbed an arm and pulled.

"God Alba! Yer grip is like a vice!" He pulled harder and the arm budged a little.

But not enough that England could get out.

"It's like he holding on fer dear life…" Wales said confused. "He wouldnae hold ye like this withoot a reason… Wha' did Alba say when he woke up?" England who was beginning to think that he was going to be stuck here forever.

"I don't know… It was Gaelic. Maitar?… Mather?… Mathar?..."

"Màthair?"

"Yes. That was it."

"Hmmm… It means Mother. Alba probably mistook ya for her and grabbed ye by mistake."

"Why the hell did he do that?" This was ridiculous to him, being mistaken for a woman. It was embarrassing to him and a dent on his pride as a man.

"Cause ye look exactly like her. Ye could be mam's clone…"

"Really?" He was surprised. He couldn't remember anything about her really. He was guessing now that the illusion of a blonde woman Scotland had made earlier was probably their mother. Wales thought for a moment.

"If there was another person here, we could get ye oot. How long til the next person arrives here?"

"It will probably be North Ireland or France, they were both roughly a hour away when I called." (That was 30 minutes ago)

"North Ireland then. He will try to break to sound barrier on the way over here…" He sounded grumpy about his older brother's reckless driving skills. "He's a gonnae kill himself one day." He muttered quietly under his breath. "We cannae wait tha' long but I hav' nae other way…"

England sighed as Wales sat down beside Scotland. He leaned on Scotland's shoulder. England grumbled a few swears under his breath about being trapped in his stupid brother's hug. Wales sighed.

Some fairies began fluttering around Wales and he smiled at them. He held out his hand and two of them rested on it. They began conversing in Welsh. It was strange to hear his brother's language. He rarely used it in front of England. In fact Wales always seemed to try and hide from England. He avoided going anywhere with him in public unless completely necessary. He once asked him why and Wales told him it was because everyone always mistook him for England. After a while Wales shivered a little. He was more sensitive to the cold than his brothers but he didn't mind as the dragons or the sheep usually kept him warm.

After waiting an hour to their surprise, a voice interrupted the serenity.

"ALBA!" Only one brother could be that loud but not sound angry. Another quieter but still loud voice sounded behind him.

"L'Ecosse? Angleterre?" Wales didn't reply but the fairies disappeared quickly, alomg with the other magical creatures. The two emerged from the misty surrounding. England yelled at them as they came into view.

"What took you so bloody long? You fucking wankers said you were only an hour away but it took you over an hour and a half!" England actually expected North Ireland in ½ hour because of his speeding issues.

"Angleterre? I didn't know tu were so close to ton frère?" He asked quizzically, staring at what appeared to be a touching scene.

"WE'RE NOT!" Wales stood up as North Ireland ran over and knelt over the red head and the trapped blonde. He poked the Scotsman roughly.

"He's asleep?"

"Aye. And he wonnae wake up or let Iggy go." France chuckled.

"I MEAN IT! North Ireland, why did you take so long?"

North Ireland grinned sheepish and held up his left hand. A metal loop was attached to his wrist, with a chain and another metal loop. A handcuff…

"YOU WERE ARRESTED!"

"Aye! If it wasnae for Francy, I would be in a cell at the moment." He stated smugly.

"Don't sound so proud!"

"Cannae help it. It's not every day tha' ye get ta see France flirt with a police woman."

"Oui, while you sneaked into the back of moi car. She was très gorgeous though!" Wales blinked in surprise.

"Why did ye get arrested? I wouldnae have thought tha' the police would be able to keep up with ye on yer motorcycle."

"Uhh… A minor car crash… I'll be needing a lift home by tha way!"

"NORTH IRELAND!"

"Aye Iggy?"

"You need to learn how to drive like a normal person!"

"Aye. Aye. I will… Now let's wake Scottie up!" England sighed in a huff.

"He wouldn't wake up here. We need to move him away from this place then he will wake up." France looked confused but North Ireland just shrugged nonchalantly. Wales grabbed one of Scotland's arms.

"North Ireland. Grab the other arm. We'll start by freeing England."

"Nae. I got a betta idea." Wales released his arm.

North Ireland crouched by the red hair. England couldn't see what North Ireland was doing so he felt a little panicked. He squirmed, trying to twist around to see the Irish man.

"Iggy. Stop shoogling aroond!"

"Wait! What are you going to do? You git!"

"Calm doon."

"No! I'm serious North Ireland! What are you doing?" He heard a slurping noise and he twisted around more, trying to see what his brother was doing but he couldn't.

"North Ireland!" He saw France look absolutely disgusted and Wales looked shocked."You Wanker!" He sounded terrified, not knowing what on earth his brother was doing.

Seconds later, Scotland jumped and yelled out in disgust.

"FUCKING HELL!"

The grip was loosened suddenly and England pushed against Scotland's chest so that he was shoved away from the conscious and very angry red head. He cried out a little in pain as he hit the ground and turned around to see Scotland holding his ear with one hand and North Ireland's wrist with the other. He was red in the face with anger. He pulled on North Ireland's wrist and yanked the auburn man onto his lap. He placed a knuckle at either side of his hard and gave the poor Irish man a very hard and messy double noogie. It looked painful for Scotland with his broken knuckle but he did it anyway.

"Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow! ALBA! STOP IT!"

"Ye bloody Bassa! Giving me a fuckin' wet willie!" A giggle escaped from Wale's mouth and a killer glare was shot at him. He stopped giving the noogie but North Ireland was still yelling out in pain.

"ALBA! STOP IT!"

"I nae doing anything!" He held his hands up, to show him that. North Ireland gripped his left wrist and held it up. Around it, where the hand chuff should have been, was a silver snake was wrapped around him with its fangs dug deeply into his skin.

Before England had time to react or gasp at the sight, the Scotsman had already yanked the snake from his brother's arm, pulled a knife from his boot and sliced off its head. He threw the withering body away from them. North Ireland was huddling his wrist. The red head grabbed his wrist and forced him to release it so he could examine the damage himself. North Ireland was whimpering slightly as Scotland removed the auburn man's glove and began sucking on the tiny bite mark.

He paused to spit out a mixture of salvia, blood and venom. He continued sucking on it. England looked at them confused. North Ireland looked in pain and Wales was concerned looking as he knelt by North Ireland and wrapped his arm around his shoulders to comfort him. France looked completely confused by what had happened as well but even more so than England. Scotland looked upset and very ashamed. He stopped to spit more and looked into North Ireland's eye.

"Tha mi duilich Bráthair!"

"It's okay Alba! It's nae yer fault! I shouldnae hav' made ye angry here…." Scotland began sucking on his wrist again.

England finally understood what had happened. Scotland must have accidently used magic and turned North Ireland's handcuffs into a snake. After sucking on it for a few more minutes, Scotland finally stopped.

"The blood tastes clean now… ye will be fine… I'm so sorry."

"I said its fine." Scotland tore a small strip of white fabric from his shirt. He wrapped it around the snake bite.

"Braw." He yawned loudly. He sat up a bit and looked around him properly to see who else was here. Wales was busy checking North Ireland and England was just sitting on the ground, tired. France moved forward.

"L'Ecosse!"

"France?" France jumped on top of him, giving him a big hug.

"Whit are ye doing?"

"It'z unfair! Angleterre got to hug tu!"

"Whut?" France hugged him tighter. "Ahhh! My rips are still broken! Ye Bassa!" Scotland struggled against him weakly, pushing away the Frenchman but he was determined. France gripped Scotland on either side of his head and pushed forward.

Lips met lips.

Wales and North Ireland looked at them utterly surprised, unable to move because of the sudden shock. England looked shocked as well but that was nothing compared to Scotland's face. His eyes were widened and he looked absolutely shell-shocked. France looked happy, snogging Scotland despite his protests. England was beginning how long this forced kiss was going to last when two strong arms grabbed the Frenchman's shoulder and yanked him up. France spun around to confront whoever interrupted his kiss when he saw a lot of anger and thick eyebrows.

"L'Irlande!" A punch flew into the blonde's face and he was knocked backwards on top of Scotland again. Scotland pushed him off roughly to one side. The blonde country landed faced first on the ground beside Scotland.

"Ye okay, Scotland?"

"Aye. I'm just dandy." He said sarcastically while he wiped his mouth. He looked exhausted and pale. France pushed himself up.

"I'm zorry L'Ecosse! I couldn't help moi self. Tu were zo tired and zo eazy to take advantage of!" Ireland looked ready to punch him again. Scotland beat him to it though with a rough palm slam to the back of his head so his face met the ground again. He flinched as he used his broken hand.

"Ow! L'Ecosse!" Loud laughter came from behind Ireland. Scotland glared full force at America.

"Dude! You should have seen your face when he kissed you. It looked so stupid!" America was laughing loudly even when Scotland gave him the finger. England spoke in a stern voice.

"Scotland. Control your emotions please." He replied with some heavy swearing under his breath. "I heard that Scotland!"

Scotland sighed angrily but resigned. He didn't a repeat incident of what had happened with North Ireland plus he was feeling unconsciousness creeping back up on him. He was struggling to keep his eyes open.

"And America! Stop laughing!" America calmed a little but he was still grinning maniacally. England cleared his throat.

"We should leave now, before Scotland falls asleep again." France stood up, grumpily and brushed off his clothes. Wales and North Ireland stood up. Wales helped England to his feet and supported his weight for him. America glanced at Scotland who was still lying against the big rock.

"Hey dude? Can't you get up or something?..."

Scotland didn't reply but glared at him instead. He looked like he wanted to say something but was trying to control himself. America just grinned and made his way over to Scotland. He knelt as if going to pick him up.

"Whut do you think ye are doing?"

"Easy. I'm gonna carry ya!"

"Nee!"

"Come on dude! You're injured."

"Whose the one covered in blood and bandages?" Scotland snapped back.

America looked Scotland over. He was clean of all blood and his bruises seemed nearly healed, while on the other hand all of America's bruises were beginning to swell and darken. He knew he didn't look pretty at the moment, especially with a broken nose. He ignored his own state though and went to pick him up again. Scotland snapped at him again.

"I refuse ta be carried by a hosed ninny!" America crossed his arms.

"Come on Alba." He whined. Scotland blushed fiercely at America calling him that name before sweeping his leg under America's knocking them away. The blonde fell down to the ground. France face palmed.

"Scotland!" England snapped. Scotland glared at his brothers in turn.

"Who told tha git!" He stared at North Ireland angrily. North Ireland stepped back. It was obvious he was blaming the most talkative brother. He was the worse at keeping secrets.

"Whoa Scotland. I swear I didnae tell him that. Wales did!" He quickly tattled on his younger brother. Wales shot him a glare.

"Aye I did Scotland…. Sorry…" The blonde was groaning loudly on the ground. He sat up dazed. He touched the back of his head again. It was bleeding again.

"Ow?" Scotland rolled his eyes. Ireland went over and lifted Scotland up, without waiting for his consent. He had to carry him bridal style so there was less pressure on his broken rips.

"Whit are ye doing?" He flushed bright red.

"Ferget yer pride fer a moment, Scotland! I'm just gannae carry ye ta tha car." America tried to stand up but collapsed again. Being persistent, America tried to stand again but he still only fell down again. He was dizzy and couldn't see third time he tried he felt an arm hook around his waist.

"Hey there, blondie! Need a clutch?" North Ireland smiled at America as he helped him remain standing.

"Uhhh… Yeah… Thanks dude!"

"Nae problem!" He swung America up suddenly and over his shoulder. "Ye need ta eat less hamburgers. Yer heavy as hell." North Ireland said playfully as he followed after Ireland.

America tried to struggled like Scotland did but he was still dizzy from hitting the back of his head again. Wales helped England walked. France followed after them.

**(A/N - This is the second last chapter in the first story! I feel a little sad now...**

**A wet willie, incase you didnt know, is when you cover your finger in spit and stick it in someone's ear. It's a form of playground torture. I have nevr had it done to me or done it to some else. It's just a lil fact I know... But's it's kinda disgusting...**

**About that kiss - Yes, I did say no pairings but France was being France... Molesting and snogging does not count as a pairing. It's just a implication... sorta... they aren't dating! France is just vbeing a pervert...  
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**REVIEW!)**


	14. Story 1 Chapter 14

**Good Night.**

The group was just leaving the clearing when Scotland passed out in Ireland's arms. Naturally he panicked about his brother's welfare.

"Hey Scotland?... Scotland! Wales! He passed out!"

"It's okay Ireland." Soothed Wales in a quiet voice. Ireland had to strain to hear him. "Scotland is just exhausted. He is using too much magic here. I was surprised he managed to stay conscious for so long… (just over 10 minutes.) Just let him sleep. He might wake up again once we get him away from the grave."

Ireland nodded. He knew that his big brother has a problem with excess magic so he had some sort of seal. His magic was amplified here so the seal usually stopped working. He was always forced to control his emotions here to stop his magic from having negative effects. The group made their way into the fog. Only the brothers knew where they were going.

North Ireland had turned red in the face from carrying America was looked on the verge of passing out. "Ugh… Blondie is so so heavy!" He complained. He had been talking non-stop since the walk had begun. Ireland would have yelled at him to shut it if he wasn't trying to stay quiet to let the red head sleep.

The walk didn't seem as long on the way back. As soon as they were out of the fog and beside the cars, the fog evaporated into nothing. America who looked ready to throw up while dangling on North Ireland's shoulder muttered some along the lines of

"Dude… all that misty stuff… just disappeared… Like aliens…"

England had to marvel at how quickly the fog disappeared as well. With Scotland not near the grave, the summoned fog just vanished, revealing the whole area. They were in the dip of a valley. Right at the end of the valley was a thin glistening strip of water, maybe the ocean or a huge loch with the sun just beginning to peek up, signalling a new day. France gasped slightly as the sun rised further, dying the sky a rainbow of colours. Different shades of pink, orange, red, yellow and light blue.

"L'Ecosse haz beautiful sun rises…" England nodded silently as everyone just paused to watch the sunset.

"I hate ta interrupt this bonnie sight but I wannae go home." Everyone looked at Scotland who looked irritated after waking up again.

"Afta ye go ta hospital for yer rips and knuckle."

"Fine! Just hurry up so I canne go home, throw up and sleep in me own bed!" He muttered grumpily. Ireland laughed a little.

"Stop being so dour, Scotland! It's tha 17th!" Scotland paused and grinned back.

"Aye I guess so…"

**Three weeks later at a world meeting….**

"America! What happened to your face! Ve~"

"Ja. It's quite bruised…"

"Da. Who beat you up?"

America stood, happy at the attention, annoyed that it was because his face was still beat up and he had to wear a stupid looking nose cast. It was to come off in a week but he was still very impatient to get the damn thing off his face. England was not early for once to America's dismay. He knew that the blonde country had finished healing about a week ago. He didn't know about Scotland but if he wasn't such a great hero, he would wish that the red head was worse off than him.

Approaching voices sounded down the hall.

"Just say it once!"

"Nae! If I say somethin' ta tha' twat, he's gonnae say something back, then I gonnae break him nose agen!"

"Why don't you just use even an ounce of self control!"

"Isnnae tha' yer job? To be a stuffy, boring gadgee?"

"Just say it then leave!"

"I sed nae!"

"Our boss told you that you have to apoligise to America. It's a matter of international relationships!"

The door slammed open as England burst in, followed by Scotland.

"I sed nae!"

"It's an order from our boss! You can't just say 'nae'!"

Most of the countries turned around to stare at them. They rarely saw England's older brothers except for Ireland who had to attend the world meetings to represent his own country. Scotland was the rarest brother though.

Most people didn't actually know that Ireland and England were brothers though, mainly because Ireland went out of his way to completely avoid the blonde. He would sit the furthest away from him and stay quiet throughout the meeting unless he was absolutely required to speak. He spoke now though.

Actually he yelled across the vast room so the red head could see him. "Scotland? You came to a meeting?"

"Och, hey Ireland!" England pulled on his brother's left wrist which was still in a brace. He flinched. It was his only remaining injury but it had been the worst. He also had a couple of stitches in the cut on his shoulder but they had been removed yesterday. He muttered loudly to Scotland under his breath.

"Just say sorry to America and go back home!"

"… Aye then… but only cause oor boss told me ta." England released his brother, expecting him to go over to the glaring American and muttered some half ass apology. But his brother could be unpredictable…

Scotland marched right up to the podium and stood behind it. He tapped the microphone a couple of times to grab everyone's attention.

"Aye is this thing oon?" His voice boomed out across the huge room that rivalled a football field. "Gud!" England was a little confused to where this was going. Scotland wasn't planning on… He surely wouldn't publically admit…

"Now some of ye may have noticed that America seems a lil under tha weather… He looks like a bloomin' raccoon with his two black eyes in other words." They were some murmurs from all of the countries. America stood up, glaring at him. Scotland grinned and continued.

"Well I'm nae sure whut ye heard but if yer interested in tha truth, listen up!" They were suddenly interested in what the red head had to say.

"Me and blondie had a fight and I'm here ta say sorry fer breaking yer nose. Sorry America for beating ye up." America blushed violently and England ran up to his brother and began pulling him away from the stand. Scotland still had a hold on the microphone as he was dragged away by his bad wrist. He continued speaking into it.

"Ye shouldnae start fights!"

"Scotland shut up!"

"Yes. I am once again sorry fer beating ya up, America, fer a fight ye started! Tha's right! Ye heard me! Scotland beat up Ameri-"

The sentence was cut off as the microphone led was unplugged from Scotland being pulled too far away from the speaker. The room was silent as Scotland was forcefully escorted from the room by England who had a tight grip on Scotland's bad wrist. The door was slammed shut. Everyone was staring at America who was a deep crimson. They could hear Scotland and England arguing just behind the door.

"You didn't have to be such an ass!"

"I sed sorry, dinnae I!"

"You weren't meant to say it over the fucking microphone!"

"Ye should be happy! I finally listen ta ye!"

"God! You are always so unpredictable!"

"Doesnae tha' make me predictable!"

"What?"

"If ye can predict tha' I'm unpredictable, then I'm predictable!"

"That doesn't make sense, you wanker!"

Italy looked worriedly at the door. "Should we stop them? Ve~"

France answered him. "Non, this iz ze normal pour them…"

Germany stood up. "Let just begin this meeting, ja."

"JUST LEAVE!"

"I'm alredy goone!"

The door opened and England came storming in angrily, sitting in his seat. Everyone stared at him until Germany slammed down his hand.

"Ve vill begin this meeting now!" Everyone flinched and the meeting began.

Half way through the meeting, a white dove flew into the meeting, dropped a slip of paper and left. Most ignored it as bird mail was a common oddity. England read it. 'Curse – from yer aulder brother.' He crumpled it up annoyed.

Everything was completely back to normal between the brothers.

**(A/N - Yep This is the FINAL chapter of the first story! But don't worry! I'm beginning Story 5 right away!**

**My story finishing order is messed up... 2,3,4,1,5...**

**I mentioned a Scottish sunrise in this. They really are beautiful. In spring, it's still dark when I leave the house to wait for the bus to school but the sun usually rises while I'm waiting for the bus and every morning it is truely beautiful. It is different each and every day but it is still so pretty. It's amazing. I love sunrises. They have lots of gentle pinks and pale yellows. Sunsets are just as beautiful though the colours are more red and bright. It's like comparing strawberry yogurt to strawberry jelly - if that makes sense...**

**I also mentioned a dove and a curse at the end. Yeah - in the anime, Scotland's messager bird is a white dove so I decided to go with that. England also recieves a piece of paper with the word curse written on it from one of his brothers. (It didn't say who) I decided to make the Irish countries be the ones who mainly sends curses like that but Scotland sometimes does it as well.  
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**The story ends with the relationship going back to normal. Kinda boring? TOUGH! **

**REVIEW AND PREPARE FOR THE BEGINNING OF STORY 5!)**


	15. Story 1 Omake

**EXTRA ENDING**

'**Therapy'… Pfft~**

"Therapy?"

"Why dee we need therapy?"

"It's closure and stuff! I read all about it dude!" England and Scotland were staring at a grinning blond, in a small room.

"Closure…"

"Yeah. I am going to totally help you two sort this out! 'Cause I'm a hero and brothers should get along!"

"Like ye two?" America quickly shut up and frowned. England went quiet too.

"…well no…" He grinned again. "But you two shouldn't fight and I'm going to help!"

"We dinnae fight much anaemoore." Scotland replied bluntly.

"What about the 16th." Scotland's eyes hardened at him, the cold green piercing into America.

"So that's whit this is aboot…" England looked at his shoes, with mixed emotions on his face.

America nodded furiously, smiling. "Yeah! Then you won't have to beat him up every year!"

Scotland paused in thought before shaking his head. "Nee. I'm leaving." He stood up and headed towards the door.

America latched onto his arm.

"NO! I need to help you! I'm a hero!"

"Yer tha one who needs help! GIT OOF MEH!"

He ripped his arms away from America, only to have the blonde jump at him with his entire body in a rugby tackle. Both fell to the ground where they struggled. "Let me help you! It's what a hero is supposed to do!"

"If ye want tae help me, leave meh alone!"

"No!" They was some more struggling as Scotland tried to push America away so he could get up and leave while America was clinging for dear life onto the red head. England sighed heavily. He didn't want to do this either. This was one part of the past he wanted to stay down and dead.

"America. Stop be so obnoxious you wanker. Have you considered that Scotland and I do not wish to divulge our history and emotions to you."

"But I just want to help…." He looked up at England with large puppy dog eyes. England squirmed uncomfortably with a light blush. He looked away with a sigh.

"Maybe just a little if you're so curious…" America looked down expectantly at the red head. The red head groaned, muttering some very vulgar phases.

"If I bloody play along fer haffa hoor, can I leave!"

"Yeah dude." Scotland went quiet.

"Fine but yer both gonnae regret this afta wards..." America beamed widely.

"Awesome!" He scrambled to his feet and offered Scotland a helping hand to his feet. The Scotsman batted it away harshly. He got to his feet by himself and crossed his arms in defiance.

"Right, whit dee ye want tae ken, ye fucking nosy brat?"

England rolled his eyes but looked mildly upset. He hated expressing emotions because he was bad at it. He was a tu.. a sun… a 'tsundere' according to Japan. America sat down and pushed Texas up his nose like a professional. He grabbed a clip board and pencil and sat down.

"Right patients! Sit down so I can be a totally cool hero and save you!" Scotland gritted his teeth and sat across the table from the blonde. England sat nearer America than Scotland but still out of reach. "So the 16th of April right? That was the battle date." Scotland cocked his head.

"Ye remembered?"

"Ummm…" America held up a Scottish history book. "I borrowed it from France…"

Scotland's emerald eyes narrowed slightly. "Really?..." His voice was low, thoughtful but hid a slightly threatening undertone.

"Yeah." America continued oblivious of Scotland's dislike of him prying into his past. "But it was boring so I only skimmed it." He added lightly.

Scotland narrowed his eyes even more. It was annoying when someone was being so nosy but it seemed even worse if they were being lazy about it because they thought it was boring.

"So let's get started! What started the war?"

"Politically or between the two of us?"

"Dude. It's therapy! You two."

"Scotland was being a git!" England stormed slightly. "He was acting like a wanker after signing the treaty!" America nodded, with his pencil moving across the pad. "He just kept treating me like a little brat! Then he went off and started following that 'Prince' Charles out of the blue!" Scotland shrugged.

"I jus' followed meh clan, the clan Stewart of Appin. I didnae haffa real reason tae rebel."

**(A/N – My head canon is that whatever clan Scotland is his middle name when he's using Kirkland as his last name and last name when he's not. So he is in the Stewart clan at the moment but in his past the name was different depending on the clan he was in. He's been in the Stewart clan a very long time.) **

"What? That's it? Weren't you looking for revenge or something?" The red head shook his head.

"Risings are very common in meh country. England always blamed meh fer them though mostly I had nothing tae dee with them." England scoffed in disbelief but the older man continued. "Scotland was rarely united in tha past and was always at conflict with itself in a series of mini civil wars. There are aboot 153 clans and 68 main ones which all had their own thoughts and ideals."

"Hmmm… So all the clans hated England…" America hummed loudly as he scribbled something down.

"Eejit…"

"What?"

"It wasnae a Scotland Vs England war. It was just a collection of some Scottish clans, English men and a few Irish and French soldiers. Yer entire perspective of tha war is wrong. Ye dinnae read tha book at all, did ye? There were plenty of Scots helping the redcoats tae. Though it was still mainly English…"

"So why did you join with the Jacobites?"

"I told ye – me clan joined." America looked slightly disappointed with the repeated poor answer.

"So you were fighting for your freedom at least?" England snorted.

"America. It wasn't over that git" He jabbed his thumb at the annoyed red head. "Charles wanted to be king of _all_ of Britain. Like I would let him… Scotland was just being a selfish, jealous git."

There was a small pause.

"Ye sound like a wee bairn agen…."

"Shut up! I do not!"

"Ye also sound like yer tha one tha is jealous…" Scotland's tone took on a more sadistic and mocking one. "Begging tae be noticed or recognised. Begging fer 'big brother's' 'respect'. 'I'm not a child!' or 'Stop treating me like a child!' and meh favourite 'Please recognise me, Big brother!' Yer oot tha windae!"

"Now. Now…. This is a therapy session. We are each entitled to our opinions but we must respect others."

"So ye'll respect meh thoughts when I say England is an attention whore."

"B-Bloody selfish wanker!" England shouted back.

"Needy wee brat!" The red head yelled.

"Jealous idiot!"

"Envious bassa!"

"Whoa! Stop it you guys!"

"Why tha fuck are we actually here?"

"For thera~"

"The real reason, ye eejit! If yer fuckin' curious oor something, jus' ask us!"

"W-well… I suppose if you're offering?" Scotland smirked cruelly and stopped shouting.

"Let's learn tha truth, shall we." He turned on England, leaning in on him. "Did Cumberland make meh oot tae be a monster?"

"W-Wait? What?" England was shocked into quietness at the sudden change in direction of the conversation.

"Ye heard meh! True oor false – The red coat army's leader, Cumberland, animalised tha Jacobites."

"…true."

"True oor false – The red coat army received tha order 'hold no quarter'."

"Un…t-true…"

"True or false - The Jacobites werenae given tha' order 'hold no quarter' but an order was forged tae enrage yer men!"

"t-true…"

"True oor false – The red coat army killed all on-lookers and bystanders at the battle and on tha way tah tha battle! Including women, children and innocent men who had nae part in the rising!"

England looked away, down and red faced in shame.

"Answer meh!" Scotland snapped.

"… true…" It was little more than the barest of whispers. The Scotsman slammed his fist into England's jaws. The blonde was knocked back in his chair. America rushed over to his former big brother to help him.

"If I haffa monster flowing through meh blood but he has tha same blood tae. Whit dee ye think he is then?" America turned to glare at Scotland and found the red head to be leaning in close enough that their noses nearly touch. His bright sapphire eyes widened in surprise as he took in the closeness of the two glowing emerald ones narrowed in annoyance.

"Will ye still save meh brother though ye ken tha' he's a monster." A low tone that seemed dangerous. America didn't look away like England and with unwavering eyes, he replied confidently in a serious tone.

"Yes. I will save him. I am a hero." Scotland tched, pushing himself away from the blonde.

"Eejit…" He started heading for the door. "Yer gonnae regret that. Monsters cannae be saved…." The red head was just on the edge of the doorway when America called out.

"I will save him!... And I will save you too!"

He barely heard the "Eejit" that Scotland mumbled half-heartedly as he left. He didn't nearly as annoyed or angry as before. In fact he sounded a little subdued and doubtful about America's statement – almost as if he wished it was true but didn't believe it was.

England deflated visibly when Scotland left. "Ahh… That was bad…. Sorry you had to see and hear that… You must hate me now…"

America paused before breaking into a grin. "No way dude! That's all history and junk." He waved it off absently, wrapping his arm around England's shoulder making him go red faced. "Now I need a burger and a coke."

"Uh… Do you really think you can save me?..." The Brit mumbled embarrassed.

"Yeah!"

"…. And my… brother too?..." America stopped and looked at England.

"Yes." England sighed slightly looking relieved.

"Thank goodness…" America grinned widely at England's thoughtfulness towards his brother. He was a different person from that past version. It made the American happy to see his ex-big brother a better and happier person.

"That, dude, is why I don't hate you."

"Huh?"

"Come one! Mickie Ds await!"

"Wait! What did you mean by that? America!"

Just outside the door -

Scotland was just out the door when he walked into an eavesdropping Welsh man. The man had a neutral expression but his eyes looked intrigued by the discussion in the room.

"Oi! Were ye listening in?" Wales ignored the question, speaking in his quiet voice as they both walked down the hallway together.

"Hmmm… I thought ye were nae meant tae lie in therapy…"

"I thought yer nae meant tae listen either…"

"So ye admit it was therapy and ye were lying…"

"…."

Scotland smirked suddenly. "Ye ken, it's lucky yer nae noticed much with tha smart mooth of yers. Ye would end up deed otherwise."

Wales shrugged slightly. "I ken… So ye gonnae ever tell anaeone tha truth?"

"Nee so sod off."

"So yer nae gonnae say that ye feel 'guil~"

"Sod off!"

"Come on. Ye hafta say it sometime!"

"Nee. I dinnae!"

"Can ye at least admit yer 'jeal~"

"Gawd so help meh Wales, I'm gonnae~!"

"Fine. Fine…. I'll stop now…"

"…."

"So yer really nae gonnae tell anyone?"

**(A/N – Yep. There are a lot of misconceptions about the Battle of Culloden.**

**I think I sorted out the main ones in here.**

**After the battle – Well you know what happens. **

**All Scottish landowners lost their land, tradional highland wear became illegal, Gaelic was forbidden, bagpipes were also now illegal and many other rules and laws that suppress the Scottish culture and subsequently the Jacobite culture. Many innocent people were dragged into the mess.**

**Everything here is true about Culloden. On the way to Culloden if the red coat army passed anyone, they would be instantly and automatically killed, regardless of age or gender or if they were even a Jacobite. The battle itself was horrific. After the battle was over, Cumberland's men went around killing every single Jacobite left alive and anybody watching the battle. It is still historically known as the most horrific act done by the British military. **

**Way to go Britain – how proud do you feel now? *Sarcasm***

**Scotland also carries a mountain of guilt and a tiny molehill of jealous. He blames himself a lot for the brothers all fighting since he did sort of started it and stuff. But he was forced to as well. He's also jealous that England can get past it while he feels trapped by it. It is kinda complex and will be addressed! It's on my evr growing to-be-written list which I will update and post soon.**

**Also Scotland is a yandere. He expresses all his emotions physically and with action. He's not really a tsundere, who has trouble expressing emotions, because he knows what he's feeling and can tell people about it. Though it might be with a kiss or a fist depending on what he is feeling…. He still likes his privacy though.**

**The genre I write depends on my mood. I felt in the angst mood so I wrote this. So this was a slightly angsty one but I still tried to add a little humours and truth seeking.**

**A week ago, I was feeling in a gorey mood so I wrote quite a bit of gore last week. I'm tempted to post it soon….**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	16. Story 2 Chapter 1 One shot

**Scotland's new ear piercing and the bad touch trio's drinking contest.**

**('The Hangover' for short)**

"Get up." A muffled sound reached his ears through the buzz of the hangover. "I said get up! You wanker!" He scowled when he heard the insult, opening his eyes a crack. He instantly regretted doing so as the bright light blinded him. He heard up his hand to shield his eyes and squinted. He mumbled something with a heavy slur and even he didn't know what he was saying.

"I can't understand you! Now GET UP!" His ears hummed under the sound and they felt painful and swollen. Scotland frowned, moving his hand so he could see whoever was yelling down at him. Messy, blonde hair and green eyes with large eyebrows stared down in a frown at him.

"Whut?"

"I said get up! Move! Leave!" Scotland frowned.

"Where am I?"

"My kitchen table!"

"Eh?" Scotland squinted and looked around to see in fact he was on England's kitchen table. "Fucking hell…." He groaned as he tried to kick start his brain and make his body function. He body shuffled a little before he gave up. England was still standing above him and tapping his foot. The resounding tap tap tap of his shoes was messing with his head. He ran his hand through his hair, moving it from his face and ears.

He saw England staring down at him curiously suddenly. "Whut?" He barked, his head ache giving him a bad mood.

"When did you get a new piercing?"

"Huh? Ma ear has always been clipped…." His voice still sounded gruff and dry. England huffed a little.

"No I mean your NEW piercing! I knew that your bottom left was already pierced but when did you get the top one." Scotland looked startled and confused.

"Huh?..." He touched his ear sensitively. It felt red and swollen, painfully enough to touch so that he winched, but there was a distinctive metal clip in his upper ear.

"Ow!" He frowned. He can't remember getting a piercing there. It must have been last night… but he couldn't remember last night. He turned his head to the side. "Hey France! When did I get my ear clipped?"

The English man jolted as he realised there was a passed out blonde leaning against the counter on the floor. He didn't see the Frenchman when he first entered the room. To his undying gratefulness, France still had clothes on.

"Frog face?" The blonde lifted his head groggily.

"Oui?" England was in shock at the sudden appearance of the Frenchman. Scotland butted in with an annoyed gruff question.

"Hey! When did I get my ears clipped?"

"Huh? Tu got your ear pierced?"

"Aye."

"Ohonhonh-OW!" He had chuckled before wincing in pain at his hangover. Scotland gave him a very weak finger while France groaned and clutched his temple.

France moaned a little. "I think… tu got it for the bet? Oui?"

The two British nations spoke at the same time, with the same surprise, turning to face France. "A bet?"

Scotland pushed himself up off the tabletop so he was sitting up and demanded "Whut bet?"

"The un with ze drinkin' contest…" France closed his eyes again.

"You had a drinking contest?" England spoke too loudly and was greeted by two glares. He crossed his arms. Scotland looked at France.

"Aye… that bits cuming back to me…"

"You lost the bet?"

Nae! Who do you think you are talking to?... Prussia lost."

"Prussia?"

"Aye. Prussia." Scotland rubbed his temples. "Got any aspirin?"

England smirked. "Not for you!" He turned to France. "Or for you either Frogface!" France pouted but was ignored. "So where is Prussia then?" Scotland and France looked at each other, slightly confused.

"Maybe still at ze pub? That's where we left him." England groaned and face palmed.

"So you, France and Prussia had a drinking contest and~"

"Et L'Espange." France corrected.

"Spain as well?"

"Aye."

"So you, France, Prussia AND Spain had a drinking contest with a bet? What was the bet?"

"Dunno… I fergot…" England sighed. France murmured something.

"Speak up Frogface."

"Ze winner got anything they wanted and the other trois had to pay for it…."

"And I wanted a fucking ear clipping!" Scotland seemed angry and in shock that of all the things he wanted, the one he chose was an ear piercing. Well that's what you get for deciding something when drunk beyond all reasoning.

"Oui…." Scotland sighed. England was slightly amused by this story.

"So what happened after that?"

"I dunno you bassa!…"

"I can't zemember either." France shrugged while Scotland stumbled to his feet. He walked through to the hallway unsteadily and looked in a mirror. England followed him to make sure he wouldn't throw up or pass out again. The red head grimaced into the mirror as he stared at the metal ring, wrapped tightly around his upper ear lobe which was crimson.

"Damn…."

"It's your own bloody fault you know."

"Pish off." Scotland's mood was still bad and his voice dry and scratchy. England actually chuckled a little before frowning again.

"So where is Spain then?" Scotland scratched the back of his head.

"Maybe at ta flower shop?"

"You went to a flower shop?" France's voice called through from the kitchen.

"Oui! After visiting ze book shop and before ze fish et chip shop."

"Aye. We were kicked out of all of them too." He smiled a little. England raised an eyebrow.

"What were you doing at a flower shop and a book shop and a fish and chips shop?"

"I dunno! We was hammered!" England shook his head.

A few seconds later the door bell went off and France and Scotland clutched their ears and cried out angrily.

"Zat Hurts!"

"Fucking Bassa!"

England smiled a little, enjoying the fact it wasn't him for once, though the two nations seemed to be handling their hangovers a lot better than him. He answered the door and was surprised to see Wales standing there with a plastic bag. He looked uncomfortable to be here and not practically happy to see England.

"Oh? Wales?"

"Is Scotland here?..." England strained to hear the quiet country but when he did he was even more surprised.

"Umm… Yes. But he has a horrible hangover…"

"I know. He texted me last night." Before England could reply, a sore sounding voice sounded just behind his ear.

"Last night?" England jumped at how suddenly close Scotland was. Wales smiled weakly and pulled out his phone to show the text. The text was in Gaelic. Scotland read it out loud for England's benefit.

"Huh? 'Come to wee Iggy's hoose tomoorow. PS – Bring tha hangover kitx4.' I really wrote that?"

Wales nodded. "The time sent is recorded as 3:15 as well." England turned to Scotland stunned.

"You could text Wales, drunk, at 3 o'clock in the morning?"

"Aye. I guess so." (it's really amazing what some drunk Scottish people can do) Wales held out the plastic bag and Scotland grabbed it happily. "Cheers Wales. I owe ya one!" Wales just smiled and shook his head.

"No problem." He turned and left, just as Scotland began rummaging through the bag. He pulled out a thermo-flask and pulled the top off with his teeth. He drank the strange liquid inside it quickly. He sighed contented after he downed the whole thing.

"Much betta…" England stared at it curiously.

"What was that?"

"Ma instant hangover cure." He stated proudly. His gruff and dry voice was replaced by his regular voice. England stared at it, amazed but slightly annoyed.

"Why did I not know of this before? I have had hangovers too!"

"Aye but yer funny when pished." England scowled.

"How did you know you were going to stay here anyway?"

Scotland smiled a slightly cruel smile. With his hangover over, he was back to his normal self. "Cause I lost ma keys last night and…." He paused in thought as if waiting for something when a huge blech sound reached their ears from the kitchen. France had obviously just thrown up. Scotland's grin became wider. "And cause France always chucks in tha morning afta drinking." England paled at the craftiness of his older brother, even when drunk he was sly.

He pulled out another flask and walked through to the kitchen, completely stable and normal. He tossed the flask at France who failed to catch it horribly. "Ze cure?"

"Aye. Bottoms up." He managed to pick it up eventually and un-screwed the top and began drinking. France re-vitalised before England's eyes.

"Ahh… Zat was bien!"

"Aye. Now take the remaining two flasks to Spain and Prussia and go home! Ya smell like puke!" Scotland wrinkled his nose and France laughed a little.

"Ohohonhonhon. Oui, of course!" He stood up gracefully and stepped over the vomit on the floor. "Merci pour un fun night, L'Ecosse!" He grabbed the two remaining coffee flasks from the bag and twirled out of the kitchen. Just as he was leaving he called back. "By the way, L'Ecosse! Your keys are buried in the garden somewhere."

"Aye?"

"Oui! In ze panzys I think!"

"Cheers!" The door slammed as France left.

England gaped at his older brother and Scotland raised an eyebrow. "Aye?"

England shook his head. "Oh. Nothing… You just amaze me sometimes…"

"That's cause I'm flipping amazing!" He grinned widely, pulling a cigarette packet out of the plastic bag, plus a new, clean set of clothes. "I'm using yer shower." He said without really asking. England just sighed.

"Okay."

Scotland left him alone in the kitchen which was messy from France and Scotland breaking in through the window and then passing out. He tried to avoid looking at the French vomit. He would have to clean this all up after Scotland left. He couldn't help but wonder what the hell went on last night and why Scotland's keys were buried in his pansies. He chuckled again, remembering the fact that Scotland had his ears pierced again.

The red head is always actually more drunk than you realise and drunk more often than you think. It was hard to tell when he is drunk though as he acts the same, sober or drunk. It always took alot to actually get Scotland drunk enough to act differently or pass out so England knew that the four probably had a LOT of alcohol last night.

England sighed before smiling. He still couldn't believe the shock on Scotland's face when he realised that he got another piercing.

**(A/N - I still haven't finished my first story yet but I needed a break from it. So I wrote two one-shots! I hope you enjoy this quick little story and the next one. I promise I will finished the first story soon. I don't have Writer's block but I still need a pause from another story. BTW I have a small WB on 'Who's my Papa.' I know what is going to happen but I'm having trouble phrasing it. On 'A growing Maddness', I decided to pause on that while I write some more of this one. This is my favourite fanfic at the moment so this one will probably be updated more often than the other two. **

**Ask if you would like translations for Scotland, ask! REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	17. Story 3 Chapter 1 One shot

**I vote England. **

**(A/N - This Oneshot is set in 1707 when Scotland and England sighed the Treaty of Union and The UK was offically born.)  
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The five brothers gathered together in the large regal room. They all had messy hair, thick eyes brows and a slightly different colour of green eyes each. A large round oak table with fancy engravings in the centre of the room had 5 chairs around it. Two of the brothers were already sitting down. One of them had light brown hair and turquoise green eyes and the other was a blonde with a large stack of paper work in front of him. He looked expectably at the other four with light green eyes. The tallest of the standing men stepped forward with hair the colour of poppies.

"Aye? Canne ye explain why ye gone done cried us oot here?" The young blonde raised a thick eye brow.

"Scotland. We are here to discuss something important."

"Aye . And?" The younger of the two auburn hair men leaped up behind Scotland and wrapped his hands around his waist.

"Donnae be rude Alba! Iggy must have something important tae say or he wouldnae hav' called a meeting!" North Ireland grinned and peeked over Scotland's should. "Ain't that right, Iggy?" England twitched annoyed at his nickname.

"I'm called England."

Ireland spoke up grumpily."Yer our wee broth. We canne call ye whatever we want tae!" England sighed.

"Fine just sit down." The three obliged with some quiet grumbling. England cleared his throat. "Last week, we all signed a treaty declaring that we a single united kingdom made up of our individual countries."

Ireland snorted and Wales sighed. Scotland didn't seem to be listening properly. Only North Ireland seemed to be listening but then again he was only smiling and looking at England. There was no proof that he was even paying attention. England continued speaking despite the lack of enthusiasm from his brothers.

"We are all equal in this nation but I feel the need to have a single representative at any future meetings between countries. It would be inconvenient if all five of us went to every meeting."

North Ireland smiled cheerfully. "Aye. Iggy has a point."

Wales nodded. Scotland sat up a little and yawned stretching out his arms.

"Aye. I agree too I guess."

Ireland just scowled. "And lemme guess. Ye wanne te be the representative?" England blushed heavily and began stuttering from embarrassment.

"I-I know that th-this job would usually g-g-go to the oldest-t, S-Scotland. But-t I think I sh-should do it." He looked down at the table, not willing to look any of his brothers in the eye. Tradition was that the oldest should be the leader or representative so Scotland was the rightful person for the job. Unfortunately, England disagreed with this. He thought he should be the one in charge. If Scotland said no, which is what he expected to him to say, then the other three would agree with him. He decided to glance up to see what Scotland's reaction to this was. He regretted it instantly. Rather than glaring or being angry looking at the idea, Scotland was grinning from ear to ear. This would be a good thing if it wasn't his sly, cruel and slightly sadistic evil grin. England gulped. This was a very, very bad sign.

Wales talked, distracting England from staring at Scotland.

"Huh? Sorry I didn't hear that Wales." Wales sighed irritated but repeated himself anyway.

"I said, Are we gonnae vote taday then?" England nodded. Ireland huffed and stood up, knocking his chair to ground.

"This is a waste of ma time! I nae taking part!"

"Ireland!" Everyone turned to look at Scotland when he snapped at Ireland. There was a reason why the brothers respected and listened to their brother other than his older age. When he spoke, it felt like you had to listen. He was a natural leader and a strong man who was easy to follow. The sort of person that would be a high ranking man in the army, that was Scotland. England was always jealous of his brother for that. He got along easily with all of his brothers and they listened to him eagerly, following whatever he says or where ever he goes. He was still grinning sadistically and the blonde shivered.

"Sit doon agin, Ireland. Stop being so dour! I wanne tae vote. It sounds interesting." Ireland blinked in surprise at the order. Even Wales seemed surprised. North Ireland sorted Ireland's chair and Ireland sat down in it slowly, glaring at England but not going against his older brother's order. Scotland leaned forward and leaned on the table.

"Aye. So let's begin tha vote." All the brothers perked up. Whatever Scotland said next would decide the destiny of who would be the representative.

"I vote England."

England nearly choked and Ireland spluttered.

"What?"

"Whit?"

They had spoken at the same time. Scotland looked amused by their reactions. North Ireland was frowning at him.

"Ye nae feeling well, Alba?"

"Nae, North Ireland. I'm feeling dandy actually." He smiled a little wider and leaned back. He placed his feet on the table and his hands behind his head in a relax position as he rocked back on his chair. Normally England would yell at him for this but he seemed distracted by Scotland's words. Wales and North Ireland didn't look convinced. Ireland was red in the face and England was in shock. Ireland finally found his tongue.

"Are yer fer real? Alba, England is oor wee broth and a git! He cannae be the representative!" Scotland looked calmly at Ireland.

"He isnae a wee bairn anaemore." He gestured suddenly for Ireland to come closer. Ireland leaned forward and Scotland grabbed and pulled his ear closer to his mouth. Ireland winced in pain. Scotland whispered something in the Irish man's ear and the excess blood drained from Ireland's face to replace by a look of surprise. He leaned out again.

"You annae tuggin' on me leg, Alba." Scotland shook his head and Ireland broke out into a grin. England was suddenly curious. North Ireland jumped over.

"No fair Alba! Whit did ye tell him." Ireland sighed and rolled his eyes before whispering into North Ireland's ear. North Ireland instantly broke into a wider grin and giggled a little. "Alba. He isnnae lying, is he?"

"Nar" North Ireland broke into a laughing fit and Scotland smirked at England's confused face. England stood up to try and get a better look at them as if that would help. Wales stood up and tugged on Scotland's sleeve and leaned in to find out why Ireland and North Ireland were grinning like mad men at England. After a quick whisper of spoken words, Wales give a small smile. It was very rare for Wales to smile so England knew that whatever Scotland had told them was probably a bad thing for him.

"Uhhh. So Wha~"

"Who's gonnae vote next?" Scotland had purposely interrupted him. "I said I vote fer England. Do ye agree?"

Ireland spoke first, not giving time for England to speak. "Aye. I agree."

North Ireland joined in, still not letting England speak. "Aye fer me too. I think England should be oor representative."

Wales nodded. "Aye."

Scotland grinned and stood up speaking quickly so England couldn't interrupt or say anything. "Barry! That 5 votes fer England. Now let's all go to the pub for some export!" The four brothers cheered and headed towards the door but were stopped by a shout from England.

"WAIT!"

Scotland turned around, looking annoyed. "Whit?"

"What did you say to them? Why did you vote for me? You should be against this! That's why I stayed up all night preparing for this!" Scotland raised a large red eyebrow.

"So ye donnae want te be the representative?" England's cheeks flushed.

"No. I want to be but what did you say to them?" Ireland looked angry at being refered to as 'them' so North Ireland just wrapped his arms around him to stop him from acting on his feelings. Scotland sighed slightly.

"Yer acting like a wee gurnie. Just be happy ye got what ye wanted."

"B-b-but!" Scotland shook his head.

"Stop acttin' like a wee bairn." He turned and left, followed by the other three brothers. England was suspicious, he never got anything he wanted from Scotland without a price and he had the feeling this one would have a big price.

The next day, he went to question Scotland to find out the truth. "Hey Scotland! I want to know why you voted for me!" Scotland sounded irritated and sleepy, only just woken up.

"Whit? Why?"

"Because I know you. You never let me have anything I want without something unless it has an advantage to you."

"Aye."

"So tell me!" England was beginning to sound like a little child again with how much he was whining. Scotland rolled his eyes.

"Think a tad, ye wee gurnie! I hate meetings. Sitting and listening is nae way fer me to spend me life."

"Then why not vote for Wales or Ireland then?" He demanded.

"Yer still nae thinkin'! Wales doesnae stand oot enough to voice oor country's opinion and if Ireland was oor representative, I would fear fer oor future!" Scotland smirked a little. "And ye ken North Ireland. He's a numpty when it comes to paying attention. He has fair big mooth as whell! Dee ye ken now?"

England was stunned. The logic seemed flawless. Everything Scotland had said was true but England still had a nagging feeling that he was leaving something out.

A week later and England was returning from a meeting with France and Spain. He had been there for two whole days, trying to discuss a truce between their countries. It was impossible though. He was happy that he had got to go to a meeting without his brothers behind him arguing at least. But he wasn't happy when France tried to molest him and Spain threatened to send his 'great' Spanish Armada. He got to yell at France, much to his delight. The meeting ended in a fight and there was no resolve to the truce. It had been a disaster politically but England still walked home with a smile. He was finally feeling like he was charge of his reckless, older brothers. Until his house came into view. Or the remains of his house at least. (His home during this period was like a small fort, it's the house he lived in before he bought the cottage which he lives in now. His cottage is fairly big BTW, like a small mansion but the fort is bigger.)

The door was open. Bad sign number one.

He could smell a large amount of alcohol, vomit and smoke. Bad sign number two.

He could see remains of his things scattered on the ground outside the house. Bad sign number three.

A note from Scotland on the door. Very bad sign number four.

He gulped. He suddenly had a vague idea to why Scotland would let him be the representative of their country.

He pulled the scroll of paper pinned to the door with a dagger and cringed when he realised it was his good, expensive paper which he only used when writing to other country's royalty. What was written on it made him cringe even more. In Scotland's bad handwriting with splotchy ink -

'_Ta wee England,_

_Cheers fer representing us at tha meeting. We celebrated yer victory wif a ceilidh. Sorry fer nae inviting ya but yer bloody depressing when hammered. Ta fer letting us use yer hoose. Yer oot of export too._

_Yer big broth, Scotland._

_PS – Wales pished in yer pansies._

Not a good sign at all…..

He crept into the house and reeled at the smell. Vomit was not a welcoming scent. He decided to check all the rooms for damage. The first room was the kitchen. Not too bad on the outside to be honest. He opened a couple of cupboards, dismayed when he found them all empty, all his fodd was gone. And one of them had been puked in. The table had a crack down the middle and a stain from god knows what. He sighed and almost moved onto the next room, if he didn't hear a soft, steady sound. He opened more cupboards until he finally opened a big double cupboard to find North Ireland sleeping peaceful, hugging a bottle of empty whisky. He groaned when he saw his brother squeezed into the tight space. How he got in there was a mystery but how England was going to get him out was an even bigger mystery. He sighed again and decided to leave him there until he woke up.

He explored the living room next and was surprised to find 5 unconscious people, one of which was Wales. Wales was topless and laying under the table. The other four people seemed to just be regular humans, until his eye caught a mess of white hair. Prussia…. He leaned in closer to Wales and touched his back. Wales groaned and woke up. England spoke angrily.

"Wales! What the hell did you wankers do to my home?" Wales screamed out in pain.

"AHHHH! TOO LOUD! TOO LOUD!" England jumped back in surprised and stumbled over someone, waking them up too. They grumbled some very colourful words before throwing up and passing out again.

Wales was clutching his ears in pain."It's too loud! Everything is too loud and bright!" He moaned loudly. Wales and England always had similar drinking and hangover experiences. "Make the ringing…. STOP!" England back away warily from his brother, deciding now was not a good time to talk to him.

He glanced at Prussia who had rolled over in his unconscious state and a loud giggled escaped his lips. On Prussia's face, someone had taken the liberty to scrawl on thick eyebrows, a moustache and some other markings. Wales flinched at the sound and wailed again. He crept from the room.

He peeked into other rooms and frowned as he saw wandered quietly through his home, coming across various mean and women, passed out or too drunk to move. He was examining the layout of one of his rooms. Someone had moved all of the furniture to in front of a door to a small closet. He was just about to leave when the window suddenly creaked before opening. Ireland crawled in half way through the window. He glanced up when someone's shadow blocked the light. He saw a very angry England glaring down at him. He looked sheepish at being caught, breaking into England's house.

"Ummm…. Ye nae seen ma boot, have ye?" England frowned angrily.

"No." Ireland nodded and continued trying to shimmy through the window.

"Aye. Then move ye bas!" England twitched in rage before slamming the window shut on Ireland's back, effectively trapping him. "Huh? What do ya think yer doing, ye git? Lemme oot!" He yelled as he struggled to try and free himself. England just yelled back.

"No Way! Now tell me where Scotland is?"

"Nae! I'll never betray Alba!" England just smirked.

"Fine then. I'll just leave you here for a while." He almost left the room as Ireland screamed some violent Gaelic swears after him. A voice from behind the stack of his furniture, made him stop.

"Hello?... Is anyone out there, aru?"

"CHINA?"

"Ahh. England, aru. That you? Thank goodness!"

"Why are you in my closet?"

"A dare, aru." The furniture shook as he tried to open the door. "Aiyaa! I been tricked, aru!" England sighed. Who else had come to party and destroy him home while he was at a meeting?

"I'll get you out as soon as possible, China."

"Aiyaa! Hurry! Hurry! Aru!" England sighed and nodded, even though China couldn't see it. Ireland was still yelling insult at England.

"Stop screaming Ireland!" England snapped.

He promised himself he would deal with his brothers . North Ireland was passed out in a cupboard, and even if he was awake there was no way he could get out without help, Wales' hangover would stop him from going anywhere and Ireland was trapped screaming in a window. Once he finds Scotland, then he can deal with his brothers all at once. He was exploring upstairs which seemed in a better state that the devastated first floor of his house. He peeked into his bathroom, only to close it quickly again when he realised there was a passed out, naked Denmark in his bathtub. That image was going to haunt him.

He was busy trying to erase the memory of a nude Denmark in his bath by banging her head against the wall, when a sudden girl's giggle came from his bedroom. He looked along the hallway confused. A girl suddenly burst out of his room. She was wearing a over-sized familiar white shirt and a lop-sided skirt. She rushed pass England and towards the stairs. He was watching her run when she turned back and waved. England waved back, confused, when she suddenly called out. "See you tomorrow, Scotland!"

'Scotland?'

He turned back to see his brother grinning at the girl, wearing only a kilt which was loosely wrapped around his waist, looking like it was about to fall off. She disappeared down the stairs. He looked down at England suddenly, still grinning.

"Oh hey!"

"DON'T 'OH HEY!' ME!" Scotland winched at the volume.

"Aye Aye! Nae so loud!" He snapped back, losing his grin. He had a bit of a hangover.

"WHY YOU! Look what you did to my house!"

"Aye. It was a barry party." He smirked.

"And who was that girl?"

"Heather. She a wee, bonnie lass, ain't she?" He sighed and leaned against the door frame. "Braw in bed too. Likes to gimme a bosey afterwards too." England blushed heavily.

"You didn't… in my bed!"

"Aye." England was stuck between paling and blushing. Scotland raised his eyebrow at this reaction.

"Och. By the way, ye still a virgin?" England turned a deep scarlet. He stuttered a little but was saved from answering when a voice sounded behind him. He was relieved until he recognised it as Denmark's voice but Denmark was….

"Hey! Scotland? Do you have any idea where my clothes are?" England turned around to see Denmark there in the nude.

"Nar, check doon stairs."

"Thanks." Denmark ran down the stairs, mentally scarring England for life. He stood there staring at where Denmark had stood, shocked and a little dumb-founded.

He suddenly spun around, determined to give Scotland a piece of his mind. He looked around, confused, realising that Scotland was no longer there. There was nowhere for the red head to hide, expect for in England's bedroom. He walked in, stormily into the mess that was his bedroom but stopped when he saw that the sly country had mysteriously disappeared. He saw a flash of red by the open window and he ran over to it and through his head out of it, just to see Scotland scale down the side of the fort. He jumped the remaining couple of feet and waved up to England cheekily.

"COME BACK HERE YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"

"Nae! Mind yer coorse language."

"SHUT UP AND COME BACK HERE YOU FUCKING WANKER!"

"See ya, Iggy! Cheers fer being tha representative!"

"I'M BEING SERIOUS!"

"And slange fer letting me use your hoose fer me ceilidh!"

"SCOTLAND!" Scotland just walked away laughing loudly, as England screamed after him.

The oldest brother escaping the wrath of England, whose house was destoried by his party.

**(A/N - My second one-shot. I promise I will do the next chapter for the first story after this one! I enjoy writing storys like this. Just so you know Scotland was scolded eventually. North Ireland had to cut from the cupboard with a saw. **

**A the time this was set:**

**England is 20 years old**

**Wales is 21 years old (He just had a birthday and is stil only a couple months older than England.)**

**North Ireland is 22 years old  
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**Ireland is 23 years old  
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**Scotland is 25 years old  
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**REVIEW! **

**Scotland translations (the new ones at least) - **

**Pish - Piss**

**Barry - splendid**

**Bosey - a hug or a cuddle (usually a small cute hug)**

**Ceiligh - Scottish dance (Most modern ceilidhs are with some traditional dancing, music, alcohol, kilts (man-skirts to you culturally insensitive people) and drunk adults. They are very fun, a great laugh.)**

**cried - called**

**slange - Cheers Mate!**

**hoose - house**

**dour -sad, glum, down, never smiling ect**

**gurnie - A sulky person (Gurne - a sulk)**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	18. Story 4 Chapter 1 One shot

**You are farther than you think….**

America had crashed into England's house, just before breakfast, for a surprise visit. However he was surprised to discover that England already had a visitor. An irritated red haired man sat in the kitchen sipping on a tea cup, glaring at the blonde as he sat opposite him. There was an empty ash tray in front of him, ready for any cigarettes that he may smoke but it seemed the Scotsman wasn't smoking. It seemed odd for him to not be smoking. The reason for Scotland's early visit, England had explained to him before leaving to get changed, was apparently their boss was trying to force them to work together in hopes that they would become friends.

America fidgeted as Scotland continued to glare at him. He was examining the blonde carefully. His eyes eventually fell on a plastic bag in his hands. America noticed Scotland's curiosity, and his determination not to talk to the blonde first, so he emptied the bag on the table. A tub of chocolate ice cream emerged.

"It's ice cream for England. His favourite flavour." He claimed loudly, feeling very proud of himself.

Scotland snorted.

America shot him a glare. "What?"

"I wouldnae be so chuffed at gettin' tha wrong flavour, ye edjit." He was smiling slightly at the younger country but it was mocking and didn't reach his eyes. America retorted without thinking.

"I'm not wrong, Dude!" Scotland looked amused as he raised one eyebrow.

"He donnae like chocolate ice cream… That's _yer_ favourite. Don't ye ken his favourite flavour?" He placed his tea on the table and crossed his arms.

America stared at the ice cream. He did buy the ice cream for England but he bought his favourite flavour and assumed that it was England's as well. Scotland saw the change of mood on America's face and smirked. He thought he might as well push the blonde a bit to see what would happen.

"What's England's favourite colour? What's his least favourite? What was his first pet? His biggest fear? His mother's name? Anything aboot him at all that donnae involve ye?" America blushed heavily.

"Ummm..."

Scotland's voice was full of false pity. "De ye even ken England? De ye really ken anything aboot me wee broth at all?" America stood up angrily, slamming his palm downs just as England entered.

"I DO KNOW HIM! I'm closer than you think! Closer than you!"

"Och, Aye?" Scotland replied sarcastically.

"What are you two gits arguing about now?" England interrupted, annoyed that America looked angry enough to punch Scotland in the face while Scotland looked amused at how easily he could wind up the blonde. It was just as bad, if not worse, as him and France. Scotland was still leaning back in the chair with his arms crossed but America jumped in surprise.

"Oh England! Uhh… Do ya like chocolate ice cream?"

"Not particularly. Why?" That's when he noticed the tub of ice cream on the table. It took him five seconds to guess what the argument was about. He sighed. America had a devastated look on his face. Probably because Scotland was right and England didn't like chocolate ice cream. Scotland looked….

Scotland looked happy.

He had a victorious smirk and he was grinning widely. He sighed again. Any second now Scotland was going to gloat and rub it in America's face.

"Told ye, ye erse." Right on cue. Though strangely not as bad as England thought it would be. He looked back at America who seemed determined suddenly.

"I do know England better than you! I was his little brother!"

"_Was. _I _am_ his older brother."

"I spent my entire childhood with him! He raised me!"

"I raised him."

Scotland spoke calmly while America just became louder and louder. England didn't know how to stop this. Scotland was purposely annoying America and it was working. He was considering calling one of his other brothers to come here and take Scotland away. But that would only make it worst. Wales wouldn't be strong enough or convincing enough, North Ireland would stop to talk and maybe reveal some secret that will make the fight escalate and Ireland… Ireland hated and avoided England so it was unlikely that he would ever answer a call or text message but if he did… He would lose his temper, the fight would turn physical and it would be a blood bath….

"I was his colony!"

"I am the same country as him."

"He knew me since I was a baby!"

"I ken _him _since he was a wee babe."

Maybe he could call France. He hated him but the perverted blonde and his brother seemed to be close friends, much to England's disgust. Sometimes France was even better at dealing with the red head than his brothers. But he hated France. He would not want him over here, plus he didn't want to call him.

"I am his friend!"

"I'm his brother."

Finally America had an idea. "I'll prove that I'm closer to England than you! Let's have a quiz!"

"A quiz?"Asked England, not believing where this was going.

"Aye, fair enuff. But let's make it interesting!"

"Don't make it interesting, Scotland…" England didn't like where this was heading. The two just ignored him though.

"Interesting? How?"

"Don't ask him how, you wanker…." Ignored again…

Scotland smiled sadistically. _Uh Oh…. _He knew the red head was going to ask for a bet. "A bet." _See! _

"No bets, you two!" They ignored him again, despite the argument being over him. England sighed and gave up his pride and texted France, hoping he could stop this before one of them became finically ruined.

"A bet?"

"Aye, a bet? If I get a higher score than ya, then you donnae step a foot in the UK for a month! Plus I get yer Ferrari that ye came here in."

"Don't agree America."

"Okay! But if I win~"

"Which ye wonnae." America gritted his teeth.

"If I win, I get to stay here for a month and you have to give me your full access to your gaming room! I know you have one! I saw it last time I went to your house!"

"You can't decide to stay at my house for a month by yourselves!"

"Aye! That sounds dandy!"

"Don't agree Scotland!" England was exasperated by the two who were fighting over him but completely ignoring him. The door bell rang. England ran to get it, France was quicker than normal. He swung it open. "Fra~!"

Two blondes stared at him but neither of them were France. "Wales? And …"

"Canada!" They both said at the same time in an annoyed, quiet voice.

"Yes. That's right! Well, right now is not a g~"

"Ye nae gonnae win." Scotland had a calm but mocking voice.

"Speak American Dude!" America was yelling.

"It's called English, ye edjit." Wale's and Canada's eyes widen.

"Alba! America!"

"Uncle Scotland! Brother!"

England coughed in embarrassment and blushed.

"So why are you two here?" Canada said something but England couldn't hear it. Wales sighed and repeated it.

"Canada was looking for Scotland but he wasnae home so he came ta me."

"Why?"

"Me and Canada are friends."

"No. I meant why was Canada looking for Scotland?"

"Uncle Scotland promised to play hockey with me later today…."

"Huh? He did?"

"Ye just a wee bairn."

Scotland sounded slightly annoyed with whatever America had just said. "Nuh-Uh! I'm not a bairn! Whatever that is!" America was getting louder. England sighed.

"He's a little busy…"

"Edjit." There was a crash, followed by the shattering of a teacup. Wales and Canada rushed forward together, knocking England over and storming into the kitchen. Scotland and America stood on either side of a topped table. There was a broken tea cup on the ground and the young American just obviously knocked the table over. He was red in the face, while Scotland grinned at him. They stood on opposite sides of the knocked over table.

"Scotland!"

"America!"

Canada and Wales both called out. They turned surprised at the sudden visitors. Scotland suddenly smiled kindly. The red head did a hurdle jump over the table, knocking the distracted America to the side, and gave a big bear hug to Canada.

"Mattie! Good ta see ya!" Canada hugged back.

"Uncle Scotland!" Scotland turned to Wales and gave him a hug as well.

"Wales! Yer here too?" Wales just nodded and gave Scotland a small hug back. America was behind him and a deep shade of red from frustration. Canada looked at his brother.

"Ummm.. Why are you two fighting?"

"Cause yer ninny of a brother donnae~"

"Cause that stupid ginger dosen't~"

They both stopped when they realised that they were speaking at the same time. England finished the answer. "~know England. That's how you were going to end right?" He looked irritated with his arms crossed. America looked sheepish before thinking of an idea.

"Hey you two!" He pointed at Wales and Canada. "You two can be the judges! Think of about some questions about England between ya and then me and Scotland will answer them!" Scotland looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Aye. That would be a fair quiz. That bet's still oon?"

"Yeah Dude! Prepare to lose your games room!"

"Prepare ta walk home."

A while later, France arrived to find an annoyed England trying to clean the kitchen, which he ignored, prefering to find Scotland first. America and Scotland were sitting facing each in the living room and Wales and Canada in the corner writing. The red head was scowling at the American, but with annoyance, not anger. America looked angry though. When the Scotsman saw the French country in the doorway from the kitchen, he waved and beckoned him over.

"Hey thar, France! Good ta see ya."

"L'Ecosse, what iz going on?"

"Me and tha bairn are havin' a wee quiz. Ye can go help Mattie and Wales with tha questions. It's all aboot England."

"Un quiz?" Scotland grinned a little sadistically.

"Aye. Plus a small bet." France nodded, understanding the situation. He grinned deviously and headed towards the two busy blondes. "Donnae think aboot molesting me brother or me nephew!" He called across the room.

"Oui! Of course not!"

Half an hour later and America was with Canada and France in the kitchen while Scotland was waiting with Wales in the living room. England was sent to wait elsewhere so he couldn't influence anyone, much to his never ending annoyance. The three 'judges' had prepared 20 questions. France was to read the questions out loud and Wales and Canada wrote down what the competitors said. Scotland and America were to be quizzed at different times. America went first.

France began. "What iz Angleterre's favourite colour? Amerique?"

"Ummm… Blue?" Canada wrote down his answer. France cleared his throat.

"What iz Angleterre's leazt favourite animal"

"Camels, I think. Cause they spit!" Canada wrote that down.

"What waz Angleterre's first pet?"

"A cat?"

"Hiz biggezt fear?"

"Ghosts!" America was pleased with himself. He had to guess most of them, most of them had nothing to do with him so he didn't really know the answer, but he was sure he had got most of them right. The quiz continued this way until the end. It was very quick and only lasted 20 minutes. Suddenly France added an extra question.

"Zis iz se bonus question now! Is Angleterre… a S or a M?" Wales faced palmed while Canada blushed heavily.

"Papa! We agreed not to put that question in already!"

"Too late!"

"S or M? What does that mean?" Wales shook his head.

"Just guess…."

"I'll go for S then." Canada wrote that down blushing. France looked at America confused.

"Why 'S' Amerique?"

"'S' for Super!" Canada groaned and face palmed.

He grinned at Scotland when he left his quiz. He felt confident. Scotland and England were always fighting and apart from each other so it was natural that he would know nothing about England. Scotland saw the grin and raised an eyebrow. He hated America's pride. He didn't like America. He suddenly felt like treating the American cruelly.

Scotland entered the kitchen with Wales as America and Canada left. Just before Scotland's quiz started and everyone was just settling into their chairs, Scotland asked France for his own pen and paper. France looked genuinely surprised at the request. France handed the Scotsman a piece of blank paper and a pen. The red head tested the pen in the corner and when he was satisfied, he gestured to France that he was ready.

During the quiz, Scotland looked disinterested, much to everyone's surprise. It seemed like the wait had bored him and he had lost his motivation. Wales was a little worried about this. He knew that Scotland didn't particularly care about his gaming room or the contest or the bet. He just wanted to entertain himself by annoying America but now he fed up with that too.

He was asked the same questions as America and Wales wrote down his answers.

"Dunno."

"Dunno."

"Dunno."

Wales didn't write it down straight away the third time. "Ye pulling me leg, Alba?"

"Nae. Write doon me answer." Scotland tapped his pen impatiently on Wale's piece of paper, signalling for him to hurry up and write it down. Wales complied. The entire time though, the red head was busy writing something down on his piece of paper. He had filled most of the page by the end of his quiz. He only took half the time America had took.

Scotland folded and pocketed his piece of paper and left the kitchen back to the living room. Canada had gone to call though England who was surprised as well at how quick it was going. France repeated the questions to England and wrote down England's answers. England refused to answer the last one so France decided to answer for him.

"Vous are probably ze M"

"Frog Face!"

Finally everyone had done their quizzes; all that was left was to mark them. Wales corrected Scotland's and America's was corrected by Canada, using England's answers. America was impatient and shuffled in the chair, occasionally checking over his brother's shoulder. Scotland looked relaxed with the piece of paper he had written on himself in front of him. America had asked him what it was but the red head only smirked and said he would show him at the end. Canada decided to read out the results for the pair.

"First, America. Eight out of twenty one." America pouted.

"What? I was ripped dude! I did way better than that!" England rolled his eyes, handing him his answers and England's answers.

"Huh? Your favourite colour is green?"

"Yes!"

"What did Scotland get?"

"Umm.. Let's see…. Scotland got… Is this right Wales?" Wales nodded. "Umm… Okay then… Scotland got zero then…"

England froze and stared at his brother. He wasn't sure how much his brother knew about him exactly but he was sure he would at least get some right! America was on his feet, cheering.

"WOOOHOOO! In your face, dude!" He grinned widely. "I Win! I get to stay for a full month! And I get to use your gaming room whenever I want!" Scotland just sighed in defeat.

"Aye. Fair enough. You clearly won." America was busy boasting to a glaring Scotland when England asked to see Scotland's answers. He blinked at them in surprise.

"Scotland..." America saw England holding Scotland's answers and grabbed them greedily.

"Lemme me see what he answered!"

"W-Wait! A-Amer-America!"

America scanned the answers and his smile faded. He looked at Scotland who was suddenly grinning cruelly at him. America looked so confused and lost at the answers. The red head tossed the piece of paper he had written on during the quiz and America caught it. He unfolded it and read it as Scotland stood up and stretched. America looked at England's answers on the table and grabbed them. He held the bits of paper together and compared them. He was a little pale from the shock of what was on the paper but he soon turned red with embarrassment. He was shaking.

"Y-You B-Bastard!" Scotland shrugged.

"Mind yer coorse language, bairn."

"Where's your pride? I thought Scotland was a proud country?" Scotland smiled sadistically.

"Aye. I am proud as a country but as a human… I hav' nae pride at all..." He turned and made his way to the door while America stared at the paper, redder that he was earlier. He looked so ashamed of himself.

"How dare he!~" Tears pricked at America's eyes.

Everyone suddenly wanted to know what was on the paper so they gathered around America. They stared between the two pieces of papers. The answers were the same except on Scotland's there was detail in the answers. Like when it asked for least favourite animal, England had said 'Horse' but Scotland had wrote, in his messy writing, 'Horse – Because when he was young he mistook a kelpie for a horse and tried to ride it. It almost dragged him into a loch and drowned him.' To England's embarrassment Scotland had also answered 'M – because his food just proves that.'

At the bottom of Scotland's, in more messy hand writing, he had wrote an extra note.

'America – I donnae have time to waste on a bairn like ye. Ye are nae worth it. To prove it:

Predicted Score for you – 8

Predicted Score for me – 0

_My real Score – 21 _

You are farther away than you think…

Congratulations on yer victory by the way. Scotland.

PS – His favourite ice cream is Rum and Raisin but he always chooses Mint because he's scared he will get hammered by accident.'

America ripped the paper up angrily and threw the pieces on the ground. He had never felt so manipulated or embarrassed. His cheeks were hot as tears burning with humilation rolled down his cheeks. Scotland's predictions were perfect and he had purposely thrown the quiz, not accepting the blonde as an equal or even as a challenger or a person to be considered at all. He had been completely used, not taken seriously at all. He felt that his pride had been cruelly trampled for fun.

Canada placed his hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him brother. He knew how proud and full of himself his brother was, so to be treated like this was very humiliating for him. It threatened his pride as a man and as a person.

Scotland knew this too.

England stared at the answers amazed at how accurate they were but the main thing that had caught his eye was.

'You are farther away than you think…' It felt like Scotland had directed it at not just America…

'You are farther away than you think…' It felt like Scotland was saying this to him as well…

'You are farther away than you think…'

**(A/N - I know to some it may seem weird that America cried because Scotland tricked him like that but to be honest that was very cruel. America is very proud of himself and being the 'hero' so it hurt him deeply to have him pride so openly mocked. It was a rather harsh attack on his mentallity rather. Men should relate to this more than girls.  
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**Also America has a 'virgin mind' in this. ie - he doesn't know what S and M is. Not M &S like Marks and Spencers but S & M like Sadist and Masocist. And France is talking sexually and so is Scotland.**

**REVIEW PLEASE - I need them to write and live!**

**I Promise to finish Story 1 soon! It's only a couple more chapter but they are all really really really long! It takes me over a week to write one! I wrote this one shot to take a break from it btw. It's Back to Story 1 now. :P REVIEW!)**


	19. Story 5 Chapter 1

**Wedding preparations**

_In Edinburgh..._

"Aye… Nee, I understand… Aye… I'll tell them… Goodbye."

He hung up the phone. He sighed, placing the phone gently on its stand. He turned away from it and ran his hand through his hair. He looked stressed and angry.

"…cack…" He mumbled.

"CACK!" He threw his fist suddenly and it collided with the wall. He kept his fist on the wall for a minute with his head dipped. He removed it and picked the phone out of his pocket. He texted something and sent it out to four people before turning off his phone. He then grabbed a set of car keys from on top of the bedside table and exited the room, slamming the door shut.

On his bed, neatly prepared but left behind, were a smart looking kilt and a white shirt with tie.

_In London..._

England felt his mobile buzz in his pocket. He was standing on the ground in front of the Goring Hotel. He picked it up and saw it was from Scotland.

"Hang on a minute North Ireland!"

"…Aye! But please h-h-hurry!..."

North Ireland dangled dangerously off of the ledge of a 3rd floor window. He held the corner of huge union jack and was struggling with the weight of the cloth and the fact he was holding onto the stone with only his legs. He was trying to attach it so that it was aligned enough to England's high standards.

Wales was arranging flowers outside another 3rd story window, close by the other corner which was already secure. He rolled his eyes.

England took his phone and began reading the text message.

"WHAT?"

North Ireland jumped at the sudden scream. He lost balance and toppled forward a bit. Luckily he managed to hook onto the edge with his ankles. Wales glanced over at North Ireland. He was in a dangerous situation but he wasn't worried. North Ireand always got himself into messes like this regularly.

"Hey ye need anae help?"

"…Nee!... I'm still… BARRY!..." He strained to speak but still managed. England looked up at North Ireland.

"Stop fooling around, North Ireland and hurry up attaching that flag! And make sure it is straight this time!" England ordered loudly. England began typing in numbers angrily.

North Ireland nodded stiffly as he tried to hoist himself back up on to the ledge to finish his job. He made his way back onto the ledge with a lot of grunting and wiggling until only his torso, arms and head were over the ledge. He phone rang loudly suddenly. He attempted to try and reach it, only to fall forward. This time he wasn't able to stop his fall.

He was still holding onto the flag luckily. He stopped in midair as the flag caught him.

"North Ireland!" Wales dropped the handful of white roses and grabbed onto the flag corner by him. It was starting to come loose of the weight of the Irishman pulled down.

"Climb up!"

"One second please! I got a text from Alba!" North Ireland said excitably as he pulled out his phone. Wales grunted as he tried to pull the flag and North Ireland up.

"HUH?" Wales heard North Ireland before he found his weight being pulled over the edge as well as the flag became completely unattached at his end. He hanged onto the stone ledge with his legs.

"North Ireland! Climb up!"

"WALES! ALBA'S NOT COMING!"

"I know! He's got work today!"

"NO! I MEAN HE'S NOT COMING TA THE WEDDING TOMORROW!"

"Whut?"

England who had been trying to phone Scotland looked up to silence their yelling when he saw what situation they were in. North Ireland was clinging onto the flag like a monkey texting on his phone and Wales holding onto the corner of the flag, trying to stop his brother from falling, while almost falling himself.

"YOU TWO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" He yelled to be heard and because he was angry.

"Just DANGLING! And havin' a grand auld time. OH AND DID YOU KNOW ALBA'S NOT COMING!" He yelled down at England sarcastically.

"YES I KNOW!"

"WELL, PHONE HIM!" North Ireland fell down a foot lower as Wales was pulled more out of the window. He ignored it and continued arguing.

"I DID!"

"AYE DID YE NOW?"

"DON'T TALK LIKE THAT TO ME!"

"I'LL TALK WHEN I FEEL LIKE IT!"

"SHUUUUUT UUUUUP!"

North Ireland and England looked up in shock at the usually near silent blonde country as he screamed at them. He was red in the face from holding up his brother and yelling.

"Both of you should just be quiet for once! England! Try to calm down and phone Scotland again! And North Ireland! If you do not climb back up here in the next 5 seconds I AM GOING TO BLOODY DROP YE!"

The two countries nodded fearfully. When the gentle, quiet and very mild tempered Wales raises his voice, you should be scared, you should listen and you should do whatever the hell he says. England tried phoning Scotland again when North Ireland used his climbing skills to scale the flag and climbed back into the window as quickly as he could, helping Wales in at the same time. Wales pulled in the flag completely.

The blonde and the auburn ran down to the ground and out to England who was swearing angrily under his breath as he got voice mail again.

"That wanker! He's not picking up!"

"Of coorse not… Alba wonnae use his mobile while at work… Phone his parliament…"

"Good idea Wales." North Ireland was looking at the text Scotland had sent him and Wales was looking at his one as well. This was the first time he had seen the text. England got though so put it on loudspeaker so Ireland and Wales could join in the conversation. After a 15 minute wait and a lot of security code checks, they finally got through to Scotland.

By this time though, both England and North Ireland were very impatient and extremely angry with the long process and their brother not going to what is a very important event for all of them.

"Aye, Whit is it?"

"SCOTLAND YOU FUCKING BASTARD! SKIPPING OUT ON THE WEDDING!"

"AYE ALBA!"

"SCOTLAND STOP BEING A WANKER AND GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!" Wales said something but it was lost in the screams of his older and younger brother. They became silent as they tried to catch their breath.

_In Edinburgh..._

Scotland on the other end of the line was in the middle of an important meeting. He was surrounded by his MPs and other important figures in his parliament when he received the call. Everyone was staring at the phone which had been on loud speaker so Scotland could continue writing while talking to his brothers. He sighed as they fell silent after shouting a volley of insults and swears at him.

He reached over to the phone and picked it up, pressing a button. He held to phone to his ear.

"Right. I'm gonnae turn ye off speaker phone now…." England's voice came over.

"Wait! You were on speaker phone?"

"Aye! I'm in the middle of a parliament meeting!" Scotland whispered angrily and loudly in the phone. All of his politics were watching and listening to him. England blushed heavily, realising that everything he had just screamed was probably heard by all of Scotland's politicians.

"Ballocks… I so sor~"

"What do ye want?" Scotland snapped. England suddenly remember his reason for calling and yelling censored and violent words.

"THE WEDDING! Why are you not going?"

"I just donnae feel like it…"

"It's a ROYAL wedding! You have to go!"

"Nee, I donnae."

North Ireland started talking. "Come on Alba! Why ain't ye going fer real?"

"I told ye, I donnae want ta go ta the stupid wedding!" He hissed into the phone angrily. Wales remained quiet; he saw no point in shouting through the phone. England was speaking again.

"She's is your Queen. OUR Queen! This is our Royal Wedding!"

"WE are nae the ones gettin' hitched!"

"This isnnae funny Alba! You have to go tat ha wedding! Even Ireland is gonnae go and he hates England!"

"HEY!"

"Ye ken what I mean!"

"I nae gonnae go ta tha wedding! Tha's me final word on it!" Scotland hung up the phone with a slam. He glared around him until the meeting resumed. It began to progress like normal again.

_Back in London..._

England sighed huffily and put his phone away.

"That bastard Scotland… Avoiding the bloody wedding…" North Ireland crossed his arms.

"I cannae believe that Alba would want to miss the wedding!"

"Aye… He usually loves events like this… He always acts like a little kid again whenever there is a wedding or a party…" Wales said almost silently.

England put his hands on his hip. "He has to come! We will just have to drag the git here ourselves!"

"Hold on England!" Wales intervened. "Alba dinnae give us a reason for suddenly not cuming! Maybe there is a gud reason?" England stopped and crossed his arms.

"And what could be more important than one of our princes getting married!"

"Aye. Hate ta say this but I agree with Iggy on this one Wales…." England phoned for a car. Wales fidgeted as they waited. North Ireland was busy playing on his phone. England glanced at him.

"Wales…." Wales bit his bottom lip.

"Aye?..." England stared at him.

"Do you know why Scotland is not coming to the wedding?"

North Ireland's head snapped up from his voice and there was a loud beep as he just lost the game he was playing. Wales shuffled a little. North Ireland was suddenly standing very close to Wales.

"Is tha' true, Wales?"

"Ummm…"

"Wales!" whined North Ireland, grabbing onto the shy blonde. "Tell us!"

"Yes. Do tell us any information that you have which may help." England said coldly, glaring at his brother. Wales sighed and unhooked North Ireland from around him.

"I donnae ken the reason either…" He mumbled quietly. North Ireland bought that very easily, he was quite naïve and gullible at times, but England was still wary of him. He had a feeling that his brother knew something important.

They bought last minute tickets for a train to Edinburgh. North Ireland however decided that he was going to see Ireland at the last minute and traded his train ticket for an aeroplane one. He said something about going to calm Ireland down. Apparently he had got a text from Scotland too. Wales and England got on the train together.

**(A/N - Remembered how ages ago, like 7 updates ago, I promised a mention of the Royal Wedding. TAADAA! This story is going to be shorter than Story 1 annd will probably last about 4 chapters maybe 5 if I actually involve the wedding. **

**Goring Hotel - Where Kate (the bride) was getting ready. I decided to make it that the brothers had to help with some of the preparations as it was their country's royal wedding. They were mainly in charge of last minute prep work and inviting other countries to the event. There are incharge of making the visiting nations feel welcome on the actual day - like America and France...**

**Review please.)**


	20. Story 5 Chapter 2

**Train Journey**

They travelled north on the train. England was still angry at Scotland but it felt awkward being alone with his brother.

In human years they were a mere 6 months apart but it always felt like Wales was a lot older than England and some of his other brothers. He was quiet and mature, unlike any one else in their family. Wales seemed content in the silence as he watched the window. England didn't mind silence either as long as he had something to do like read or sew or knit but they had left to quickly to grab anything interesting.

After 45 minutes, England couldn't stand the quietness anymore.

"Wales." Wales jolted slightly and looked at England, his blue-green eyes staring right into his light green ones. He waited for England to continue.

"Earlier… You do know the reason why Scotland refuses to go to the wedding." Wales sighed.

"I can guess but nae moor than tha'" England stared at Wales.

Wales was always there, silently observing his brothers. He was perceptive enough to accurately know or guess almost everything about England and the others. England knew this so he was sure that whatever Wales knew about this incident was likely true.

"What is your guess, Wales? Why does Scot not want to go to the Royal Wedding?" He fiddled and but his lip again.

"It's…" He looked indecisive. It was clear that telling England Scotland's feeing felt like a betrayal to him. He gave up after a moment's thought. England leaned in to hear the quiet country better. "It's nae that Alba… doesnae want ta go…"

He was using Scotland's nickname which sent warning signals to England. "It's moore tha' he cannae go…" England sat up in surprise.

"What?... He can't go?"

"Nee. I'm sure that he wants ta go but he cannae. His parliament probably wonnae let him."

"Why?" England demanded. Wales glanced to the side, out of the window.

"….Alba's been a tad short on cash the last coople of mooths so him…. and parts of his country cannae afford ta take a day oof fer tha wedding…."

"In other words…"

"Aye, Alba is broke…"

"That fucking wanker!" Wales's head snapped back to England. He looked confused at why England was shouting. England began a loud rant about his older brother.

"That bloody git has been spending all his money on his damn cigarettes and alcohol! When I get my han~"

SLAP!

England blinked in shock as the raw pain finally registered on his left cheek. Wales held his hand up from just slapping England across the cheek. He was glaring hard at England and he flinched backwards from the angry gaze. England was shocked and confused. Wales, who was forever a mild man with little change to his expression, looked enraged at England.

"W-W-What was that f-for, Wales?" He stammered.

"Me hittin' some sense back inta ye, ye twpsyn!" He snapped. England was confused as he rubbed his sore cheek. He had never seen Wales hit someone before.

"I don't understand…" Wales sighed huffily. He crossed his arms and thought for a moment. He guessed that he might as well start at the beginning.

"Hav' ye seen Alba drinking or smoking a lot recently?"

"Huh?"

"Jus' answer."

England thought about it. He hadn't seen his brother much over the last couple of months. He usually saw the red head once or twice a week but recently he had seen him only every couple of weeks. Scotland had been a lot busier lately. He flicked through all his recent memories of Scotland. All of his older ones had cigarettes and alcohol tied in with his brother but now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen his brother smoke or drink much recently. A couple of cigarettes every now and again and a little whiskey, diluted with water. There was one night when he had a drinking contest with the bad friends trio but he remembered that France had paid for that, not Scotland.

"N-No... Scotland has been rather sparse with his whiskey and smoking in the last couple of months."

"Exactly. He's nae been drinkin' or smokin' much. He's been limiting himself ta a cigarette a day and only a whiskey once a week."

"Oh."

Wales rolled his eyes. England was trying to figure out something in his head. If Scotland wasn't spending money then why was he poor?

Wales was looking out the window again. England knew that Scotland wanted to but couldn't go because he had to work so Wales figured that was enough. England however wanted more information.

"Why is Scotland low on money then?" Wales looked back at England and England squirmed as Wales studied him.

"Ye donnae ken?" England shook his head. Wales paused and breathed silently for a moment as if he was thinking.

"England… When you go drinkin'… who pays for your drinks?" England thought a moment. He certainly can never remember paying the bills himself, he was always too drunk, and so he thought probably America.

"America, I think."

"Phone him and check." Wale commanded. England blinked once in surprise before pulling out his mobile and dialling America. The call was short as it was early in the morning in America.

"Wha's up dude… it's like… 8 o'clock in the morning here… I already said... I wouldn't be late for the wedding..." He heard America mumble before giving a huge yawn.

"Hello America. Actually this isn't about the wedding. I was wondering, when we go drinking, are you the one who pays for the drinks?" America paused for a second.

"Nah… I always thought ya got da tab in da mornin'…"

"Oh…. Goodbye then."

"See… ya…" The phone went silent as America fell back to sleep so England just hung up.

Wales was looking at him expectantly. England just shrugged.

"America doesn't pay for my night outs so I don't know who then." Wales looked like he was waiting for something but after a few minutes, it was evident he wasn't going to get what he wanted. He tried again.

"Phone Ireland now." England looked sceptical but called him anyway. His brother didn't pick up the phone naturally, since England was calling so Wales used his phone and placed it on speaker so England could hear. Ireland picked up after the second dial tone.

"Wales! Foos yer doos? Ye betta be gittin' Alba ta tha' weddin'!"

"Aye… I'll be tryin' but I doubt tha' he will come." England shot a glare to Wales and opened his mouth to speak. Wales placed a finger on his lips, telling England to remain silent. England complied grumpily.

"I doubt it ta but try!"

"So when ye or North Ireland go fer a dram, who pays?..."

"Hmmm… I donnae really ken. I always thought tha' ye paid. Tha's what North Ireland guesses ta."

"Hmmm…. Do ye pa fer Iggy's at any time?" There was a loud snort over the phone.

"Pfft! Like I would give a single penny ta that erse! Tha bassa can rot in debt fer all I care!" England scowled angrily at the phone. Wales gave him to signal to remain quiet again.

"…Cheers Ireland…. Tha's all I wannae know."

"Aye. But don't go calling me fer stupid things like this agen!" Ireland yelled before hanging up. His brother always sounded so angry, that it could be a little scary at times…

Wales pocketed his phone. "And I donnae pay fer his or North Ireland's tab either…"

England looked at Wales and the message finally sinks in. Unfortunately the blonde didn't believe it. He rolled his eyes.

"Now really. Do you honestly expect me to believe that Scotland is paying for Ireland's, North Ireland's and my drinks?" Wales nodded. England laughed once at the absurdity of it. "Scotland would never do something like that. I might believe that he sometimes pays for Ireland's and North Ireland's drinks but never in a million years would he pay for mine." He scoffed at the idea. Wales sighed and pulled out his phone again. He dialled something else in and put it on speaker again. This time an elderly man picked up.

"Hello." England recognised the voice but not the owner. It sounded familiar….

"Hello. I was calling aboot me brother. Arthur Kirkland."

"Oh him! Sorry old chap but your brother is elsewhere." England was still trying to pinpoint where he had heard this voice before when Wales whispered to him.

"This is tha pub ye use… They sometimes call me ta pick ye up…" England jolted suddenly and blushed red. Wales spoke to the old man who was the bar tender.

"Do ye ken who pays me brother's tab?"

"Hmmm… Sorry chap but I do not know his name…"

"What is he like then?"

"He's quite recognisable. Bright red hair and a strong Scottish accent. Usually wearing a blue uniform. Sorry but that's the best describtion I can come up with."

"Cheers." "If you need any more answers, just give me a call." "Ye did great actually. Tha's all I wannae know. Ta."

"Goodbye."

Wales hung up the phone and looked up at England who was staring at the phone.

"Convinced?..." England kept staring at the phone.

"England?..."

….

"Iggy?..."

….

Wales sighed and leaned back. England was silent, trying to digest the fact that his brother might actually do something nice for him on a regular basis without bragging or demanding repayment. He looked up at Wales and shook his head.

"Sorry… but I still don't believe you. I just can't believe it." Wales nodded. He never really expected England to. The image of a cold, ruthless and sadistic Scotland was burned into his memory after all. The rest of the train journey was silent.

**(A/N - Hmmmm... Not much to say. Ask a question if you have one and I will answer it if I can.**

**Review please and thanks to all the people who have reviewed! You guys are awesome! Also thanks to the people who have favourited me and put this story on alert... ;,,; It's making me blush...)**


	21. Story 5 Chapter 3

**Parliament**

They arrived in the centre of Edinburgh on the train. The streets of Scotland were surprisingly busy despite it being a normal working day.

"God. Don't these people have any work?" England complained as he was pushed about in the bustling streets.

Wales chose to ignore him or not answer him. Scotland's streets were always strangely busy no matter what time or day it was…

England paused in front of Scotland's parliament in the middle of Holyrood. He stared at it a moment. It was a strange building. Apparently contemporary and sleek, it just looked plain weird to England. He still couldn't believe the fact that it had won several significant architectural awards with such a strange design. He supposed it matched his brother and his odd quirks; it was a blend between old and new designs and images.

He saw that Wales had left him behind, entering the building's door. He hurried after him. He was wondering why his brother had came with him. It was clear he was not angry at Scotland like him and he had some sort of crazy idea that Scotland was missing the wedding to work as all of his money was spent on Ireland's, North Ireland's and England's drinking nights. It sounded utterly ridiculous to the short gentleman.

He stomped past Wales to the desk. Despite England's anger and impatience, he was still a proper English gentleman so acted politely towards the receptionist.

"Hello ma'am. I would like to see an Ian Kirkland. He should be in a meeting at the moment but it is very important that I see him."

"Who er ye?" England gritted his teeth a little; his patience was getting the better of him.

"His brother, Arthur Kirkland." She dialled a number into the phone behind the desk and after a few minutes. She hung up.

"Sorry, Mr Kirkland but Ian isnae able ta talk ta ye at tha moment. His meeting finished an hoor ago but he is still very busy." She said coldly to him. England sighed irritably before placing his hands roughly on the table.

"Do try again…. Please!" The receptionists looked at him warily. Wales suddenly appeared beside him.

"Tá brón orm fer me deartháireacha. Cait a bheil Alba?" Her eyes widened momentarily, along with England's.

"Dè an t-ainm a tha oirbh?"

"Alba's bráithre, Wales." She nodded in understanding. She picked up the phone and said some quick things before giving Wales directions.

England stared at Wales astonished. The two began down a corridor. England whispered loudly under his breath.

"She understood Welsh?"

"Nee…. She ken Gaelic…."

"I didn't know you spoke Gaelic!"

"It's common courtesy ta ken yer brother's language…." England remained silent. "Scotland told me ta use Scottish Gaelic if I wannae ta see him quickly…" England was surprised.

"When did ye learn Scottish Gaelic?"

"Same time I learned Irish Gaelic and Latin. From Birth…. I learned English later when ye made it yer official language."

He didn't know how to speak any of his brother's languages or that Wales was such a linguist.

"Can Scotland speak Welsh?"

"Aye. Ireland, North Ireland and Scotland can all speek Scottish Gaelic, Irish Gaelic, Latin, English and Welsh fluently… It's natural fer them…"England fidgeted, feeling slightly guilty, only knowing his own language and his previous language, Latin.

Wales led the way until they came to a room. Wales knocked before going inside. Scotland's office was a medium size. One wall was completely glass. There was a large oak desk in the middle, with two huge main stacks of papers and other smaller bits of paper spread around. Scotland was writing quickly. He didn't bother glancing up when Wales entered.

England stormed in and pushed past Wales. He slammed his palms on the desk and glared at Scotland. Scotland continued writing like he wasn't even there. England waited for his brother to respond to him but became impatient when the red head continued ignoring his presence.

"Scotland."

"Aye?" He kept his head down, writing.

"Scotland!" He paused in his writing.

"Fine! Whit do ye want, ye wee git?…." He said grumpily. England huffed.

"Why are you no attending the wedding anymore?"

"'Cause I donnae want tae."

"The REAL reason."

"Fine. I git work." England huffed.

"Then don't go!"

"I cannae! I hav' ta go!"

"Why?"

"Cause I got nae money! My government decided tha' I need ta work ovar time fer now." He kept his head down, writing again. He hadn't looked up once since England and Wales had entered the office.

"What did you spend all of your money on?" Scotland paused a moment.

"Whiskey and cigarettes…." He muttered under his breath. England rolled his eyes.

"I knew it!" England crossed his arms.

Wales leaned into England and whispered something. England muttered something back. Scotland continued staring down, trying to write. He jumped when he suddenly felt England behind him, grabbing the sides of his head.

"Whit ar~" England pressed his nose into the messy red hair.

Scotland froze in surprised. England felt Scotland become tense beneath him but ignored that. He gently sniffed the hair. He had forgotten how comfy to touch it actually was. Despite how coarse and messy it looked, it was pretty soft. He sniffed it gently.

He could smell Scotland's shampoo, paperwork, peat and freshly cut grass. Scotland always had a natural scent about him. He also caught a strong whiff of coffee for some reason too. But no cigarette smoke or alcohol smells….

England pulled away and released Scotland's head. England walked back to the front of the desk, with Scotland still staring down, frozen.

He blinked a couple of times and resumed writing. England watched him carefully. After a few minutes Scotland took the piece of paper he was writing on and ripped in half annoyed. Wales spoke up for the first time in the office.

"Ye began writing in Gaelic agen, Alba?"

"…Aye…." He admitted grumpily. Wales walked up to Scotland who had begun re-writing the piece of paper again.

"Ye always do tha' when exhausted."

"…."

"Alba."

"I ken!" Scotland snapped at Wales, who flinched.

Wales crouched down a little and looked into Scotland's face that had been dipped down the entire time. After a moment of looking he stood up again.

"Let's go England. Alba isnnae gonnae go tat ha weddin'."

Wales left the office and England followed him. He acknowledged that Wales was right but that was it. He still didn't like Scotland and he knew Scotland didn't like him. Scotland would still beat the total crap out of him every other week.

"Tch. I can't believe Scotland isn't coming to the bloody wedding…" He muttered. He looked at his quiet older brother."What was that last bit about?"

"… Hmmm… Alba's probably hasn't slept properly the past week… His waste bin was filled with paper work that was half written in Gaelic and he had really bad, dark bags under his eyes…" England looked at Wales again. He clearly under estimated the turquoise eyed man. He had been the one to tell him to sniff Scotland's hair to check for cigarette smoke and stuff.

"How much do you really see, Wales?" Wales smiled slightly.

"A lot." England sighed.

"Why did you come here if you knew you were right?"

"Cause ye wouldnae believe me til ye saw Alba fer yerself. I came ta make sure tha' Alba dinnae beat ye up befoore tha weddin'."

Maybe Scotland wasn't the only crafty one in the family.

**(A/N -I based the story on the fact that some parts of Scotland didn't get the day off for the wedding. I was at school ALL day. I missed the wedding completely! My mum and dad both had to go to work as well. To be honest, most of Scotland had a holiday but the Highlands wasn't really apart of that. If you did get a day off on that day, then good for you and don't complain that the story was 'inaccurate' because it is partially true.**

**Scotland smells like coffe because he has been drinking a ton of caffine to stay awake.**

**Scotland is always busy for some reason... I really have no idea why... It is busy in the middle of the day when everyone SHOULD be at work... Strange...**

**I have the feeling my Scotland isn't violent enough... I think that is because the relationship between Scotland has improved since he got his own parliament in 1997 so he doesn't beat up England so much anymore. Though before a couple of years ago, he used to hit England a lot. **

**To solve this - I'm going to do some more storys on their pasts together where they used to try and kill each other etc...**

**Fists are louder than words. And quoting another fan fic 'I hurt to love and love to hurt.'**

**There is only one more very quick chapter for this story... I kinda ran out of stream on it and it became a quick (kinda bad) drabble... **

**It will be about the wedding and will be very short because I became lazy on this story. I want to hurry up and do the next one!  
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**Scottish Gaelic Translations**

**Tá brón orm fer me deartháireacha. Cait a bheil Alba - I'm sorry for my brother. Where is Alba?**

**Dè an t-ainm a tha oirbh? - Who are you?**

**Alba's bráithre, Wales. - Alba's brother, Wales.**

**PLEASE REVIEW! I love the people who regualrly review. And the people who read and fav my storys or add me to alert. And anyone who even just likes Scotland. Thank you.)**


	22. Story 5 Chapter 4

**The Wedding Day**

The wedding began the next day. Wales and England had arrived back in London at 9 the previous night, just in time to greet a couple of early coming countries. This included Japan, China, Russia and France.

England told France to 'sod off' though because he was only an hour away by train so the French man was forced back home, disappointed.

North Ireland arrived at 10 with an angry Ireland in tow.

They slept in a nearby hotel and when morning came, they prepared for the wedding in separate rooms. Both of the Irish men wore matching Irish kilts while Wales decided to wear an expensive tuxedo instead. England had gone with a formal tux as well, though it was a different design and brand.

England, Wales and North Ireland sat down at Westminster Abbey in the front row with the queen and the rest of the Royal Family. Ireland, since he was no longer part of the UK, had to sit in the second row, directly behind North Ireland and in between Germany and Hungary. Naturally he was sulking angrily like a 6 year old and threatened to slit North Ireland's throat if he did something stupid and/or embarrassing, which was almost guaranteed.

Russia had to be placed at the end of the row of seats when he obstructed some people's views. Unfortunately, this put him just behind the Queen so England was tense throughout the whole wedding.

France had a red mark on his cheek after being slapped by a passing foreign visiting princess he had decided to grope. Japan was taking lots of photos of the strange head gear people wore when America was behind England, continuously asking him things or trying to talk to him.

Romano sat beside Spain who was just beside Germany. Wales had warned Spain to not let Romano break out into swears at Germany or meet Ireland. Two angry, yelling countries at a Royal Wedding could easy start WWIII. Italy was beside Hungary and on the aisle, where the bride was due to walk up.

No one really knew where Canada had sat. Some doubted that he was there while others swore that they had seen him somewhere. So no one knew if Canada was even there.

China was beside Japan and was bubbling excitably about the Wedding. There were many other countries there as well.

The countries managed to calm down though as Kate arrived, much to England's relief.

The wedding went smoothly. There was a slight glitch at the kiss when North Ireland tried to make 'whooping' sounds and howl like a wolf but luckily Ireland began strangling him with one arm while holding his hand over the auburn's mouth. Everyone there who knew him ignored it. It was widely known that North Ireland was a cheery over talkative man with had a big mouth and smiled too much as well, even when angry.

At the end of the wedding and the beginning of the reception, photos were taken. When everyone got the photos back, most were surprised to see a partially invisible blonde in the back of most of them. Mainly countries saw this as a chance to become close to the future King of the United Kingdom so took many pictures with the married couple.

There was the tradition family photo at the end of the photo session which included the current queen, the married couple and the four brothers that were present. Usually all five brothers would be in the photo but Scotland wasn't there. At the end of reception, nearly everyone was still sober due to trying to look good in front of royalty.

Someone, no one really knew who, had managed to find the photo album from the last British royal wedding. Every one grinned as they recognised themselves and Princess Diana. The last picture in the book was the traditional family one with Scotland included.

"Wow! I didn't know Scotland could smile like that!"

"Aye. Scottie loves festivals where he gits ta wear his kilt."

"Where is he anyway, aru?"

"Uhh…. Sorry but he had important work today…"

"Aiyaa! Really? That too bad…"

"Whoo Dude! Scotland is wearing a skirt! MAN SKIRT!"

Ireland punched America hard in the stomach. "Tha's kilt, ye weefucking bampot!"

America could only groan back while clutching his stomach. "Ireland! Ye cannae punch America here! Even if he is a wee bampot!"

"Tch! Shut up!"

Wales spoke up in a warning voice. "Ireland… North Ireland…" The two quietened down.

The reception soon ended and most of the countries returned home. A couple farway countries stayed in the UK over night and left in the morning. France was immediately and forcefully exported from the country as soon as the reception ended.

The brothers returned tired to the hotel and flopped onto their beds. England went to check on his brothers before going to bed.

Wales was sleeping, curled up in a tiny ball at the bottom of the king sized bed. That was normal for him.

Ireland was sleeping, sprawled out messily on his huge bed with the cover on the floor beside him. He rolled and moved about a lot in his sleep, usually throwing random punches or kicks. He snored loudly, proving that he was loud and angry sounding 24 hours a day.

North Ireland was missing from his bed, along with his duvet and sheets. England paused and tried to figure out where he might be when he heard a thump from Ireland's room. He peeked in the door and saw North Ireland on the floor, rubbing his bum as the sleeping Ireland had kicked the intruding brother out of his bed. North Ireland smiled sheepishly when England raised an eyebrow at him from the door. He quickly returned to his room.

North Ireland slept with his face buried in a pillow. Most nights, he slept still, hardly moving at all, unlike Ireland who was like a tornado when asleep. The younger auburn claims he has a habit of sleep walking but everyone suspected that was a lie, just so he could sneak into one of the other brothers' beds during the night.

England finally returned to his bed when he was sure that all of his brothers were asleep. He quickly fell asleep himself, dreaming of the wedding.

**(A/N - I had fun thinking of how some of the countries behaved at the wedding. I rushed it though but if I had spent more time on it, I would mention more countries.**

**Canada was the one that had been in most of the photos, just in case someone was confused. I made this one mainly to be humourous.**

**Hmmm. Not much to say here as it was mainly just a small ender to a quick drabble.**

**Review please!)**


	23. Story 6 Chapter 1 One shot

**Brothers in Wonderland**

**(An 'Alice in Wonderland' parody I wrote for fun but decided to post anyways... It's nothing special or great just another (long) one-shot)  
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The blonde's eyes snapped open and he sat up. A book slid from his nose to his lap. He was sitting in his garden, under a tree, reading a novel and drinking tea. He had fallen asleep obviously, which was strange for him. He stood up and flexed. He wasn't used to sitting or sleeping on the ground.

A shuffling noise distracted him. There was a rustle of leaves before a young child emerged from the bushes. Their light green eyes locked in a stare. The blonde child was dressed completely in white and bared a remarkable resemblance to England. In fact the child looked exactly like a 5 year old England. The only difference was two light creamed coloured rabbit ears that dangled loosely at the side of his head.

They stared at each other for a few moments before the younger bunny England began running away. England ran after him.

"Hey! Wait up! Who are you? WHAT are you?"

England chased the boy as he scurried away from his older version. England was wondering how long he was going to chase the strange boy and why his small garden seemed to be going on forever. Eventually the boy dressed in white made a sharp turn around a large white rose bush. England rounded the bush and skidded to a stop.

In front of him was a huge pit about 2m in diameter.

"What the fu~?"

He gaped at the hole. He looked to the left and right and realised that the only place for that the young blonde could escape to was down the hole. He approached carefully. He stood on the edge of the hole and glanced in. He didn't expect it to look so deep. It was completely black and he couldn't see the bottom. He leaned further to get a better look.

"If this is some stupid prank that my brothers thought of then I'm going to ki~!"

He gasped as he felt two small child's hands on his back. He felt his weight move forward in a rush as he toppled over the edge. He could only catch a glimpse of what or who had pushed him into the hole. It was a short flash of red hair and bright green eyes which soon disappeared as he tumbled deeper into the hole.

It was surreal, falling through darkness. He didn't know how fast he was falling. He wondered when he was going to meet the ground, it might actually kill him. It didn't kill Russia though… Maybe he would survive too?

He panicked anyway.

And screamed like a manic…

He closed his eyes, not wishing to see the ground or his death coming.

The rush or air around him stopped suddenly. He was too scared to open his eyes but after a while he was curious to why he wasn't

A) Going splat.

B) Feeling the rush of air that came from falling

C) Screaming anymore.

He opened his eyes in experimentation and saw he was standing in a circular room. He felt so dizzy and disorientated. He looked up and saw a near endless tunnel going straight up. There was a small blue dot at the end which he assumed was the sky.

He blinked.

How was he standing after falling so far? What had stopped his fall? What had started his fall? His main question though was

"How the bloody hell am I meant to get back up there again?"

A speck of white moving quickly along the ground caught his eye. He looked at it carefully and suddenly recognised it as the white bunny boy, except he was only a couple of inches high. The boy rushed to the edge of the circular room and through a tiny door that was only half a foot tall. He dropped something though as he exited.

England was confused to why the boy was so small. Maybe he had grown big though? He knelt down and picked up what the mini England had dropped. It was a little scone, only the size of a button. He peeked through the door, hoping for it to be a way out. He certainly couldn't leave any other way. He could see a garden on the other side. It looked just like his garden but it had small differences. He could see the start of a forest at the end of it. It was an escape route to England.

Trouble was England was 5' 9 and the door was 0' 6…

He was not going to be able to walk through the door being the size he was now. His stomach rumbled slightly and he remembered that he fell into this stupid hole just before lunch. He looked at the miniature scone.

"Might as well try it…" He popped it into his mouth and swallowed it. "Hmmm… Not too bad…"

His body tingled suddenly and he felt his body become tighter. It felt like he was being pushed into on all sides as he was slowly compressed. When his body stopped tingling and his senses came back to him. The tiny speck of sky at the top of the deep shaft was further away now and the room was much bigger, to England's surprise. That was when he realised the room was not bigger, he had shrunk.

"Bloody hell…."At least his clothes shrunk as well…

He looked at the door and smiled slightly as he realised that he could now fit through the door. He ran through the door in a hurry to escape the circular room.

The garden was huge now compared to him. He wondered where his younger rabbit like self went when a smoke signal caught his attention. He walked towards it, examining the now giant flowers with avid curiosity. He soon found the source of the thin line of smoke climbing into the sky. It was a dark red dragon with a child sitting on top, drawing with crayons.

A 5 year old Wales.

Except he was dressed in a puffy blue outfit which had six arms and two dark blue antenna on his head. The way he looked and dressed, he closely resembled a blue caterpillar.

"Wales?" The blonde child looked up from his drawing and in surprise at England.

"Oh!... Hello."

"Wales! Why are you a child? Why are you dressed like a caterpillar? Why are you in this pit too?"

"Huh? I donnae ken what yer talking about?" He slid off of the smoking dragon's back. He moved around all his arms. "These are real… I am a caterpillar."

England froze.

His brother had aged backwards and grew an extra two pair of arms and two antennas.

Ballocks...

"And we are nae in a pit and I hav' always been this age…" England's mouth hanged opened. This was beyond abnormal. If this was a prank, it was a bloody good one. The mini Wales examined England closely. He touched England with all 6 of his hands, curiously. He smiled suddenly.

"Ye must be… Alice!"

"Wait! What? Alice?" Wales hugged England's knees.

"Alice!"

"I'm not Alice! I'm not a girl! I'm a guy! A GUY!"

"And?... Alice can be a guy."

"But I'm called England! England! Your brother!"

"Huh? England? Who's that? Yer Alice." Wales said with conviction. England sighed. It was useless arguing with the child.

"Fine... Whatever… Where are we then?" Wales smiled slightly.

"You should know that more than anyone." England huffed, not understanding the answer but accepting it for now.

"Fine. Did you see a little me with ears like a rabbit? He was dressed in white and ran by here I think."

"Oh I ken him! He's the White Rabbit! He was headin' ta the castle!"

"Castle?"

"Aye. It's very far away when yer this size though… Donnae worry, I will make ye bigger so ye can get there quicker."

"Umm… okay then, Wales. How?" Wales held up another scone.

"Eat this. It will make ye big. Good luck finding the White Rabbit, Alice!" England nodded and took the scone.

"Thank you, Wales." He ate the scone and his body tingled again. It felt like he was being stretched and filled with air. The last thing he heard from the tiny caterpillar child was this.

"I'm nae called Wales though. I'm the Blue Caterpillar!"

Soon he was at his normal height. He looked around the garden, poking into hedges and bushes, searching for his younger rabbit self.

He saw a bush shaking and crept up on it. He threw the bush open, expecting to see the white bunny.

Instead two auburn coloured boys fell out of the hedge. It was an 8 and 9 year old North Ireland and Ireland. The two Irish boys stood up, dusting themselves off. They wore red and yellow striped T-shirts and blue shorts and red base ball caps. North Ireland grinned at England while Ireland glared. North Ireland began talking first like normal.

"Hello there! How are ye? I'm Tweedle Dee. Who are ye?" He said in a small rhyme. Ireland punched him in the arm.

"Shut yer mouth! Ye stupid tattie! I'm tha one named Tweedle Dee!" He spoke angrily and loudly but in rhyme as well. England stared at them.

"Why are you speaking like that?"

"You should know that more than anyone!" North Ireland blurted out suddenly.

"Edjit! Ye just broke tha rhyme!" Ireland spoke angrily at him.

"Opps…"

"I'm Tweedle Dee and He is Tweedle Dum."

"Why am I Tweedle Dum?"

"Cause yer the dummy!"

"Then who is he?"

"Tha's Alice! Can't ye tell, ye dumb ninny!"

"Oh… That's right! He is Alice. I fergot." England watched them argue. They acted exactly like his older brothers.

"Excuse me. Have you seen a younger me?"

"A whit?"

"A who?"

England thought for what Wales had called him again. "The White Rabbit I think."

"Och, aye! We seen him! He went ta the castle!"

"Where is the castle?"

"You should know that more than anyone"

England huffed again. Everyone kept saying that. 'You should know that more than anyone.' What did that mean?

"Plus we cannae remember."

"But they might!"

"Aye! They might!"

"Who might?" They ignored England's question.

"We'll take ye there"

"They are drinkin' tae in the woods!"

Each Irish boy grabbed a hand and began dragging England towards the forest. They lead the way along a twin twisted path. England had begun to think they were lost until they came to a clearing. In the middle sat a huge banquet table with 50 odd chairs around it. At one end sat two men. The two auburn haired children released England hand and North Ireland ran forward excitably.

"Chess!" The scowling child Ireland remained by England's side. An adult North Ireland jumped forward excitably. He wore loose purple striped clothes and had purple highlights in his hair. He also sported purple cat ears and a long tail. He was grinning widely like the normal North Ireland. He held his arms out.

An adult Ireland remained sitting. He was dress in bright orange clothing with a fancy jacket and a large over decorative top hat with a cloth clover on it. He was sipping on an empty broken tea cup while glaring at England. North Ireland jumped into North Ireland's arms.

"Tweedle Dum!" They hugged.

England stared at the strange sight. Seeing older and younger versions of the two Irish countries was like he was in a dream. It was just so surreal.

"Who are they?" He asked. Young Ireland glared up at England.

"You should know this more than anyone. The purple cat is called the Cheshire Cat or Chess for short. The angry one is called the Mad Hatter or just Hatter."

"Mad? As in crazy?"

"Nee! Ye ninny! Mad as in angry! He has a lousy temper! He's alwaying howling 'boot somethin'!"

"I heard that shorty! Ye ain't nae saint yerself!"

"Shut it, ye fuckin' Hatter!"

"See! Ye hav' just as bad a bloody temper as me!"

The two Ireland began shouting and swearing at each other angrily while the two North Ireland smiled and talked excessively to each other. England was beginning to understand this place a little. The inhabitants were younger and older versions of him and his brothers. They were also strange people with different names and animal features…

The characters sounded familiar to him but he couldn't pin-point where he had heard the names or seen the characters before…

He began wondering where the younger and older Scotlands where in this world. He wanted to avoid them if possible…

He also remembered that there should be an older Wales somewhere as well. England walked over to the table and sat down. Most of the tea cups were broken and the tea was cold. He checked the inside of the teacup, for any extra, hopefully warm, tea. It was empty. England huffed annoyed at his lack of tea when a snoring noise reached his ears. It came from under the table.

He looked under the table to find a sleeping adult Wales. He was dressed in grey with large mouse ears and a long thing tail.

"Tha's Door Mouse!" He spun around in his chair to see the cat-like Irish man. North Ireland grinned a lot normally but this version of him would put him to shame. His smile was inhumanly wide and slightly creepy.

'Tweedle Dum' had returned to his angry look alike brother. They were just leaving, heading back to the garden where they had just come from. Old Ireland had calmed down a little but he still glared out from under the wide rim of his bright top hat. He had change seats though and was drinking out of a different cup now which had actual tea in it. North Ireland sat down beside him and began drinking tea as well.

"Is he okay?"

"Aye! Doors just likes ta sleep a lot but he is very smart. He kens a lot!"

"Does he? Then maybe he cou~"

"CHANGE SEATS!" Ireland yelled angrily. Both Irish men stood up and moved along a few chairs clumsily and in a hurry. When England didn't move, Ireland threw a teacup at him.

"MOVE, YE NINNY!" England quickly rushed to another chair. One that was further away from the two. North Ireland's ears twitched when he saw this and he pouted briefly before breaking out into a grin. Suddenly he faded away, leaving his smile behind. It soon disappeared though and England looked shocked. He gasped.

"Where did North Ireland go?"

"Who?"

"The cat man! You know! Chess!"

"He's beside ya, ye edjit!" His head snapped to the side and he jolted when there was a grinning North Ireland staring at him intently.

"How did you do that?"

"Whit?"

"Disappeared and reappeared like that!" The two of them stared at him as if he was the crazy one.

"Shouldnae ye ken this?"

"Aye. You should know that more than anyone. Alice."

Again with that answer! England crossed his arms. He was so confused and he felt lost. He had no idea where he was or how to get back home. And everyone kept calling him ALICE and answering 'You should know that more than anyone.' to his questions. It was annoying. He was beginning to wonder why he followed that young rabbit version of him.

England suddenly remembered why he was here.

"Where is the castle?"

"You should know that more than anyone."

"I know. I know…."

"Why are ye looking fer the castle anyways?"

"I'm chasing a white rabbit…." He admitted with a blush.

"Oh him! I ken him!" North Ireland jumped excitably and grinned widely, before teleporting to the other side of England to reach a new teacup. "He works fer tha' red king! What's his name agen?"

"The King of Hearts!" Ireland snapped.

"Aye, tha's it! The red haired king rules this place. White Rabbit works fer him." England paled. He suddenly had a feeling he knew where Scotland was in this world. He had no idea if it was his younger or older self but it didn't really matter… Scotland as a king was bad news no matter how old he was…

"CHANGE SEATS!" They all moved again. North Ireland continued like the conversation like they were not interrupted.

"Ye ken Alice, Door Mouse will go with ye thar." England had suddenly decided not to go. He wanted to avoid Scotland. North Ireland evaporated and reappeared beside where Wales was sleeping under the table.

"DOORS! WAKEY WAKEY!"

Wales blinked himself awake and crawled out from under the table. Around his neck he also had a red spotted handkerchief tied loosely. He mumbled something quietly and Ireland yelled at him to speak up. He repeated it grudgingly followed with a wide yawn.

"I need ta go ta tha Red King's castle… Tha King of Hearts will be waitin'…"

"Take Alice with ye then. He wants ta go too!"

"Aye. Plus he is annoying…"

England soon found himself being escorted by Wales while his North Ireland waved and screamed "GOODBYE ALICE!" at them as Ireland drank tea, scowling at them.

England looked at Wales. This version of him was quieter than the normal one, which was amazing. He also looked exhausted enough to pass out on his feet. England stared at the mouse ears which twitched, showing that they were real.

"Wal~ I mean Door Mouse… Why are you going to the castle?"

"….You should know that... more than anyone…."

"Let's pretend I don't."

"….Oh… I'm going to paint... tha roses red…"

"That's strange…"

"Not really... The King wants red roses so I'm… going to paint them red…"

England fell silent. The castle was soon in sight. Wales abandoned him in the castle's garden to begin painting the hundreds of white roses a bright red. Wales had said "…Goodbye Alice…" before leaving him.

England thought about turning back but instead he found himself continuing.

He soon found himself in an oversized throne the end of it in a huge throne, sat Scotland. To his complete and utter surprise, Scotland was dressed normal in his bright blue military uniform and smoking a cigar. Scotland sat with his ankles crossed. On his lap sat the young England with rabbit ears, clinging onto Scotland's uniform tightly. Scotland had his free arm around the small boy in a protective way. The only strange thing he was wearing was a gold crown which sat lop-sided on his head. He was relaxed and very smug looking. He looked at England lazily.

"Och. Hey England."

"Huh?" Scotland raised a thick red eyebrow at his brother's stupefied reaction.

"Whit?"

"Y-you just called me England!"

"Aye. Isnnae tha' yer name?"

"Yeah but everyone calls me Alice here…"

"Of coorse they do. Tha's who ye are here."

"Alice? Why Alice?" Scotland smirked suddenly.

"Donnae tell me… Ye donnae recognise tha story?" England thought for a moment.

A story? Alice… White Rabbit… Mad hatter… Cheshire Cat… Blue Caterpillar…. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum…

"This is Wonderland! I am 'Alice in Wonderland!"

"Bingo. My wee broth finally figure it out."

"Scotland, how do you know this? You call me England and are in your normal clothes and everything! How are you not effected?"

"You should know that more than anyone."

"What does that mean!" Scotland grinned smugly.

"It means that you know the answer. You just nae thinkin' enuff." England clenched his fist.

"I don't know the answer!"

"Ye dae!"

"No! I don't! This is just a stupid dream!" England stopped suddenly. Scotland's grin widened as he saw England discover the answer. The young bunny boy England, who had been staring curiously at normal England, hid his face when his older self raised his voice.

"This is a dream?..."

"Aye."

"So none of this is real?"

"Nee! Donnae get ahead of yerself. Of coorse this is real!"

"Huh?... I don't understand…" England looked confused. Scotland looked amused.

"It's simple. This is a dream within a dream which makes it reality." England looked even more lost.

"If you cannae understand that, then donnae bother thinkin' boot it…. Just remember that ye are dreaming this…" England blinked.

"I am dreaming all this but it is real… So this is my dream?" Scotland snorted.

"Donnae be daff!" England opened and closed his mouth. It felt like Scotland was purposely trying to muddle him. "Yer just dreaming it but it ainnae yer dream…" Scotland's voice had softened noticeably.

"Then who's dream is it?" He demanded impatiently.

"The dream belongs to the one who brought ye here…." He was speaking very quietly now.

"Who is that then?" He demanded louder.

"… He's been standing behind ye this whole time…" Scotland was staring past England now. England turned around slowly and faced a short 12 year old Scotland staring wide eyed at England. He looked shocked at the sight of the English man. England mouth popped open as he stared at the young red head. The 12 year old was dressed in ancient clothes with a blue cloak. He had a bow and a quiver full of arrows on his back.

"...Is he real?..." England whispered now.

"Aye… He isnae part of tha dream either..." Scotland sounded completely serious.

"How can this be his dream?... This Scotland existed 2000 years ago… He can't be dreaming this."

"He isnae… Ye are dreaming this but it was originally his…" He turned back to the older Scotland who was staring coldly at England and holding the young England to his chest.

"This can't be possible!"

"It is."

"How?" Scotland glared down at him. All his earlier humour and amusement was gone. England glared back. He felt a tug on his sleeve and his head snapped down to the young red hair looking up at him.

"Ciamar a tha sibh, Iggy?" England looked confused. He suddenly remembered that Scotland never learned English until he was 17 or 18. Scotland answered for him in Gaelic.

The young boy nodded before reaching up and giving England a tight but clumsy hug. He also gave a kiss to England's forehead.

"Tha gaol agam ort." He stepped back, blushing a little but grinning kindly at the same time. "Mar sin leat!"

Scotland looked down on the scene with a blank face. It was hard to judge what he was thinking when he used his poker face liked this. England stared at the boy as he faded away. England turned back to Scotland and young England shocked. Scotland nodded and closed his eyes before taking in a deep breath from his cigar.

"The dream is going ta end soon fer ye…"

"What will happen to the dream? What will happen to Chess and Doors and Tweedle Dee? Will they disappear now?"

"We will end."

"We?"

"Aye… I nae the real Scotland… Nae like tha Scotland ye just seen, he was tha real Scotland... I'm jus' part of the dream… just like this wee White Rabbit…" England stared at Scotland then his young self.

He puffed on his cigarette more. The small bunny England stared at him, tearfully. Scotland patted the boy gently, trying to calm him down. He murmured a couple of comforting words. He turned back to England.

"Remember though that I'm nae yer real brother. I just look and act like him. My name is the Red King oor the King of Hearts." England blinked and looked directly at his younger self who looked upset. He began to realise what this meant for this Scotland and everyone else in the dream.

"When did this dream begin?"

"Fer ye, when ye fell down tha' hole and into oor world, Fer us 2000 years ago."

"When will it end?" Scotland smiled sadly.

"When ye stop dreaming..."

"And you will die too?" England could feel tears prick at the edges of his eyes. Even though he barely knew these people and they weren't his real brothers, he still felt attached to them. He didn't want them to disappear.

Scotland paused a while before answering. "Aye... but we already lived 2000 years... It's time ta move oon." Eangland soon found himself crying properly like a child again.

"B-But I don't want you to d-die! Even if you are not m-my b-b-brother! Even if you are a d-dream! You said y-you are r-real!"

"But I have ta..."

"NO!" England wiped his tears on his sleeves, trying to stop the endless tears. "You c-can't d-die!"

"Do me a last favour befoore I disappear..."

England sniffed loudly. "What?" Scotland smiled sadly but kindly, directly into England's eyes.

"Wake up, ye naffy and have a dandy life."

The blonde's tear filled eyes snapped open and he sat up. A book slid from his nose to his lap. He was sitting in his garden, under a tree, reading a novel and drinking tea. He had fallen asleep obviously, which was strange for him. Another strange thing was his dream. He looked down at his lap. His book had closed, losing his place. On the cover it read 'Alice in Wonderland'. He began crying a bit more, remembering the contents of his dream and how it ended. With the ends of his alternate brothers. He wiped his face with his sleeve and found it was wet from the dreams he had wiped in the dream.

He looked past his lap and his eye widened as he gasped. Lying on top of him, like a blanket, was a bright blue cloak that someone else had placed there on him to comfort him. The same cloak worn by Scotland 2000 years ago….

Behind the bush, a 12 year old red haired child stared at England who had just woken up. He smiled sadly as the older blonde country stood up, walking back inside his house, with the book and now empty tea cup while sniffing all the while. The Englishman had looked confused, perplexed and slightly disorientated but had fresh tears glistening on his cheeks. The blonde had left behind his blue cloak and the young Scotland ran forward and picked it up. He tied the cloak back on.

"Hey!" The short red head spun around to see a smiling adult Scotland with a crown. Around him were the other characters of Wonderland; The Blue Caterpillar, The Mad Hatter, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, White Rabbit, Door Mouse, Cheshire Cat.

"Let's go. Alice will be dandy now." The small Scotland ran up to the Red King and grabbed his hand. He led the young child and the rest of them to the huge pit.

"Come on, doon tha rabbit hole back to Wonderland. It's time ta move oon..." The bunny England rushed forward, being the first one to jump into the hole. He was soon followed by the rest though. When the final character jumped, the hole slowly faded away leaving no trace of the hole or the strange people who had jumped into it.

**(A/N - Yeah... I was not high when I wrote this... I wrote it on a spur and it was _meant_ to be confusing and not make sense... Sorry...**

**Scottish Gaelic Translations**

**Ciamar a tha sibh - How are you**

**Tha gaol agam ort - I love you**

**Mar sin leat - Goodbye**

**Review please and thanks for reading this chapter. It is much longer than my other ones and a little weird. And the ending is sad with the whole Wonderland world disappearing. Ask if you want an answer and i will (try to) answer them. Thanks for the reviews and favs. Review please.)**


	24. Story 7 Chapter 1

**PROLOGUE**

"FROG FACE!"

"FRANCE!"

The two British countries burst through the door of the world meeting.

"England?"

"Scotland?"

"Iggy?"

"Alba?"

"Another England? Ve~"

"There are two Englands, da?"

"Actually… I told everyone at the start… that I was Wales… Not England…"

"THERE YOU ARE FRANCE!"

"GIVE ME THA' KEY, YE TWAT!"

**One Week Earlier…**

England felt his head moaned angrily and his body complained loudly. He had a horrible hangover. Not the worst one he ever had though, but still fairly bad….

He opened his eyes and vaguely recognised the surroundings. He was obviously in his house, probably the hallway. He tried to roll over to his left but found his right hand trapped. He tugged it hard but it refused to move. If he wanted free, he would have to sit up properly.

He thought for a second and winched as his brain argued against thinking. He would remain lying on the ground with his eye closed until the hangover was gone. Luckily it was very early in the morning and there was barely any light to disturb him.

He laid there for another 45 minutes until his back began to hurt from that position. He found himself turning automatically, towards his right hand as it was clearly impossible the other way. He found his forehead against naked skin. His eyes shot open again. The body beside him was still, clearly unconscious.

"Oh god… Please don't be dead!" England sat up to see just who he was laying beside and hoping that whoever it was was still breathing. He gaped at him. It was his oldest brother, completely passed out, spread out like starfish. He was completely still.

England reached over to his brother's throat uneasily and place two fingers on his jugular. He felt a steady pulse and sighed in relief. His brother was alive. Until England kills him for breaking into his house probably while he was drunk. He wondered why his brother was here like this though. The man was lying in the hall way, like he had been left there, and he was just wearing jeans.

"… Dammit Scotland… Why the hell are you in my house?..." He mumbled to himself as his mind tried to settle down.

He needed tea. He guessed that if he sobers up a little, dealing with his brother would be easier. He made to stand up but found himself being pulled down. The world was still so fuzzy so moving was a pain. He tried again but something was tugging on his right arm, keeping him tied to the floor.

He turned his head to identify the source of his problem and blinked as the world suddenly focused. On his wrist was a thick silver bracelet which was attached to a metal chain that lead the way back to Scotland's left hand where an identical silver hoop ensnarled his wrist.

"Fuck…"

**(A/N - This was a quick intro to my next story. It's a chapter for each day they are stuck together so that is seven chapters in total. Plus this one.**

**I had fun writing this. More fun than my last story. I have decided to write this story and the next one at the same time.I am going to mainly work on this one though and do a couple of chapters on it then maybe one or two on the next one. It might not work though...**

**If you are wondering why I choose to try and work this way (ie - writing two storys a once) , it's to help keep my interest. If I work on one story for too long, I become bored and my writing becomes crappy and it takes twice as long to write and think of ideas... So when I lose interest, i just need to switch for a little while and TAADAA - hopefully continuously interesting storys.**

**Review please and thank you regular readers and reviewers! You guys are awesome!)**


	25. Story 7 Chapter 2

**DAY 1**

"Fuck…"

England's semi clear mind had comprehended that something was very wrong. If his mind was perfectly fine and not suffering from a hangover, he would have immediately yelled or screamed at the fact he was chained to his brother. His mind slowly caught up with reality.

"SCOTLAND!" He yelled as he pulled on the handcuffs. His brother didn't move.

Usually yelling would wake him up from his hangover or if he was just asleep. Maybe the red head wasn't simply asleep. He shook his brother, slowly at first then violently. He still refused to move.

"Hey! Scotland!"

Why wasn't his stupid brother waking up? How was he meant to get his cup of tea if he was attached to an unconscious Scotland? Another shock to his brain happened as he realised more things. It was not just tea that he was unable to make. If he was stuck here with the red head, he couldn't do anything. Nothing at all! He was basically trapped until Scotland woke up. He began shaking his brother again.

"Scotland!"

He yelled in his brother's ears and shook him violently enough that the scarlet haired man's head knocked off the floor a couple of times. He was beginning to worry. His brother wasn't a deep sleeper, this was definitely enough to wake him if he was okay.

"Hey?... Scotland?..."

God what was wrong with him? Was he okay? He was breathing. He had a pulse. He had blood in his hair…. Wait blood?

England lifted his brother's head and there was a large black blood stain beneath his head. The blood was old, dried and blackened, and the head injury was already closed up and healed. But it was still recent. Maybe yesterday or last night. He placed the head back down gently. He had to figure out a way to wake Scotland when he was knocked out like this.

England looked around desperately, his hangover blurring his vision. He saw a vase of roses and tried to reach out for them. The handcuffs were keeping him centimetres from his intended goal. He tugged harder on them and his finger brushed the glass.

"J-just a bit c-closer!" He pulled on Scotland's arm more and the Scotsman was dragged a little to the side. England was worried that it might open the wound again but waking Scotland came first. He wrapped his fingers around the cool glass and pulled the vase into his chest. He had to pause and remain still for a few moments while the world stopped spinning. He tipped the vase over Scotland's face. Water and roses poured out and splashed onto Scotland's face.

He spluttered and his eyes fluttered open quickly. He coughed sitting up and brushing the roses from his face, confused. He groaned and looked around. Seeing the English man close by, his eyes narrowed into a glare. England flinched at the look and tried to back away but the chain stopped him. Scotland looked at his wrist which was pulled by the handcuff. His eyes widened before narrowing again.

"Whit did ye do?" He hissed loudly, pulling on the handcuff roughly. England shrunk back and gripped his head.

"Ahhh!" Scotland's expression softened slightly until he smelt England's breathe.

"Yer hungova." It sounded like a question but was stated as a fact. England nodded with a winch, despite the fact Scotland didn't need an answer.

"GUD!" He yelled in England's ear.

"FUCKING BALLOCKS!" England cried out in pain from Scotland's voice and his own. He covered his ears and began muttering that he wanted to die over and over again. Scotland rolled his eyes and pulled on the hand cuffs so that only one of England's ears was covered. He wasn't going to hold up his arm just so his hang-overed little brother was spared the tortures of loud sounds.

He stood up but had to lean to the side because England, who he was attached to, was still crouching on the ground. He looked around. He couldn't see the key to the handcuffs close by.

He looked back down at England who was complaining and cursing and wishing to die quietly. He wanted to find the key quickly and since he couldn't remember how he had gotten into this mess, England was necessary to find it. But he was useless at the moment.

Scotland thought for a moment of how to get rid of England's awful hangover. He saw the door to the kitchen and got an idea. First though, he had to get England to the kitchen so he could 'work'.

Scotland scooped England up suddenly. England gasped and his eyes swirled dizzily. He was too nauseous to shout at Scotland for suddenly lifting him up without permission. He closed his eyes and began praying for God to make the world stop spinning for a bit though. Scotland carried him bridal style into the kitchen as that was the easiest way to hold him while handcuffed to him. He was tempted to plop England roughly in the kitchen chair but Scotland needed to move about the kitchen.

He sighed. England would just have to man up and walk beside him or collapse trying. He placed England on his feet. The blonde swayed dangerously so Scotland stilled him with his free hand.

"Donnae ye dare faint!" He threatened in a low voice.

England nodded and became still. He was soon balanced enough for Scotland to let go of him. England stood there scowling.

"What are you doing now?" He demanded weakly.

"Shut up and put this on, ye daff bassa." Scotland thrust a dish cloth into England's hands roughly.

"What?" England was honestly confused. Scotland yanked it back and placed it over England's eyes.

"Like this." Scotland tied a knot at the side of his head because that was the easiest place to reach with England's arm getting in the way. He tied it tighter that necessary and England yelped. He couldn't see anything now. He felt his wrist being pulled around as Scotland moved about the kitchen. He was dragged around blindly and harshly.

"What are you doing, Scotland?" He gasped.

"Curing ye. Now shut up!"

"Why am I blindfolded then?"

"Cause I donnae want ye ta ken me secret recipe. Now shut it!"

England obeyed him, simply because his worsening headache was getting to him. He let Scotland force him around the kitchen. He heard various noises like the blender, the fridge being open a lot, his cupboards being raided and chopping of something. He also heard Scotland swear once, probably when he closed the cupboard on one of his fingers. He also heard something being boiled on the stove. His wrist was being to hurt now. Since he couldn't follow Scotland with his eyes and walk close to him, the handcuff was always pulling on him.

His head ache was getting worse now and more than once he had begged for the noises to shuts up, only to be told off by Scotland.

After an hour he heard whatever Scotland was making be put onto a low simmer. He heard Scotland say something quietly in Gaelic. He felt the air hummed around him violently and a surge of power. He recognised the feeling as magic but his head simply pounded violently as the feeling washed over him.

He heard something being poured. He swayed a little again before being pulled forward.

"Open yer mooth." He ordered. England shook his head weakly.

"No… I flew… fell for that!… when France said that… but I 'm no… not going to fall for that a goat… again!…" He slurred slightly, having a hard time concentrating and forming words and sentences with his increasing migraine.

Scotland stopped, realising what France had probably done. **(A/N – Who can guess what France did? Warning – It's dirty!)** England heard Scotland mutter "I'm going to kill tha' French bassa afta this…." quietly to himself before speaking loudly to England again.

"I'm yer brother, ye erse." He shoved something warm and smooth and cup shaped into England's hand roughly. "Open yer mooth and drink this befoore I forced it doon yer throat meself!" He snapped angrily.

England took it and drank it obediently, out of fear. It tasted bitter-sweet like rhubarb dipped in sugar but other than that, he couldn't actually define the taste. When he felt the last of the liquid disappear down his throat, he paused in realisation.

His headache was completely gone. His body no longer felt slow and heavy and unwilling to co-operate. His pains suddenly seemed to vanish and he felt totally re-energised like after a good night sleep.

"Wow!..." He gasped. He could practically feel Scotland's smug smirk and gloating pride staring at him. "So was that your 'so-called' insta-cure?"

"Aye."

"That was amazing!"

"Aye. I ken. Now that yer no longer makin' last minute negotiations with God, where is tha bloody key?"

"Huh?"

"Tha key! Fer these blasted handcuffs! Do ye honestly think I want ta spend tha whole day tied to a bratty erse I'm foorced ta call me wee brother!" England paused a moment. "Weel?"

"I-I don't know."

"Whit?"

"Hang on. I'll just take off this dish cloth then we can look for it together."

"It's gonnae hav' ta be together! I'm chained ta ye!"

England ignored Scotland's last comment as he pushed the tight dishcloth off his eyes. The knot was too difficult to untangle. He gasped, but not in awe this time, but rather in shock and anger.

"MY KITCHEN! What the bloody hell did you do to my kitchen, you wanker?"

The kitchen was in shambles. His usually immaculate counter tops were covered in things like vegetable leftovers, egg shells, flour and spilled milk. There was half a head of cabbage balancing on the fridge door which was still open.

"Och. Aye. This tends ta happen when I make me cure… If tha cure had a side-effect it would be this - A hell of a mess in yer kitchen." England turned red in the face.

"SCOTLAND!"

"Donnae yell!… I just cured yer hangover so find tha key, let me go and then clean yer bloody kitchen!"

England fumed for a moment. He tried to cross his arms but Scotland yanked the chain down so he couldn't. The chain was only a foot long between them so it was awkward for either one of them to move their hands. England had to tolerate and keep his hand dangling at the side like Scotland.

England thought for a moment. His brother was physically stronger than him so forcing England to go where he want would be easy and in one or two ways, he was more intelligent. He was sly and a war strategist and apparently great with magic but other than that, Scotland was of average intelligence. England suddenly thought of something to say that would convince Scotland to help clean his kitchen.

"I'm not going to tell you where the key might be until this kitchen is clean."

"Fine. I'll just drag you aboot tha hoose until I find it then!"

"That could take hours! Plus I will resist! It would be quicker to clean the kitchen first." England reasoned. Scotland sighed huffily, muttering angrily under his breath.

He held out his hand, palm up and concentrated. Scotland was obviously still irritated with England and the handcuffs but he calmed down his emotions and stared blankly ahead of himself. He muttered something and his hand glowed a lime green. He turned his hand over so the palm faced the ground with his fingers spread.

"Scotland?..."

"Hmm?"

"What are you doing? Why di~"

Scotland made a 'Wsheesht' sound to silent him. England rarely saw his brother actually use magic, though he was told that he was good at it. He murmured something in Gaelic again. The green glow spread from his hand over the kitchen and things became sorting themselves. It was like watching a real life version of Fantasia. Within 20 minutes, the kitchen had magically cleaned itself.

England stared in wonder at it. Scotland had managed to perform magic without using a chalk circle or any kind of talisman at all.

His hand turned blue when the kitchen was cleaned. He held his hand up expectantly and frowned when nothing happened. He furrowed his brow but still nothing happened. He shook his hand, annoyed now and the blur glow dissipated.

"Tch! Fer some reason, summoning tha key isnnae working."

"Oh." So that was what Scotland was trying to do after the kitchen was done cleaning. He felt a mixture of smug, amazement, sympathy and disappointment. He felt smug because Scotland's spell hadn't work, amazed because Scotland could perform magic without circles, sympathy because his spell don't always work either and disappointment because now they had to manually search for the key.

Scotland sighed huffily, clearly angry that the summoning spell didn't work and slightly confused to why.

"Come on! Let's go find tha key befoore I saw oof yer hand!" England nodded.

The two searched the hallway, kitchen, living room, England's bedroom and the bathroom. After 4 hours, the two were ready to rip each other's arms off, just to escape each other's presence.

They had decided to try England's basement, where his magical things were kept. They rummaged among the magical stuff, the handcuff forcing them shoulder to shoulder while stopping them from looking properly. England's eye caught something silver and he used his free hand to wiggle it out from under a box.

It was a hand saw.

He held it up for Scotland to see and the older one grinned back. He handed the saw to Scotland as his right hand was occupied with the silver handcuff so he couldn't saw properly.

Scotland pulled on the chain so it was tight and began running it saw along the chain. He sawed for a few minutes, pressing hard on the chain and sawing quickly. When he removed the saw though, there wasn't a scratch on it though. England frowned. Scotland had definitely been sawing properly.

Scotland tried again but for 10 minutes. Still the chain didn't even have a mark on it.

"Cack!" Scotland swore in Gaelic. He threw the saw on the ground. He held his palm out again and it glowed again. Flames flickered and form around his hand. The fire licked along his skin but didn't burn him. He grabbed the middle of the chain and the heat flared. The flames soon disappeared and Scotland inspected the chain again.

England had been fascinated with the flames so wasn't paying attention to the chain for a while until Scotland swore again.

"Cack!" He threw his hands up angrily, pulling up one of England's arms too, painfully.

He looked stressed as nothing seemed to be breaking the bond that held them together. England was beginning to feel very stressed too. England tried to cut through the chain too but soon gave up as well.

He ruffled his free hand through his hair, angrily. Scotland crouched down on the ground again, facing away from England and began looking through another box, half-heartly.

He had obviously given up cutting the chain and decided to look for the key again. He had calmed down with the realisation of the chain being unbreakable and had resorted to quietly and moodily searching through boxes again. His arm was behind his back awkwardly because England was still standing behind him.

England could see the outlines of dozens of scars from that time long ago when he let Scotland be tortured. They were quite faded but still noticeable. They had disappeared a lot farther since the last time he had saw them. The time he had spent at the grave had probably increased the healing speed.

He saw the blacked stain in his hair again and the crusty blood frozen in a dried tickled down his back, over the scars. Seeing that calmed England down and reminded him to tell Scotland.

"Scotland?"

"Whit?"

"Doesn't your head hurt?"

"Whit? Nee! Why?" He demanded.

"You got old blood on the back of your head. You must have hit it." Scotland touched the back of his head. His hand came back with dark brown and black powdery blood. He rubbed it between his fingers.

"Och… Barry…" He muttered sarcastically. He stood up and dusted his hands off. "Since we cannae find tha key… let's go git washed and dress."

"What? How?"

"With tha usual stuff – soap, water etc." He walked out of the basement and England kept pace by his side.

England rolled his eyes. "No, I mean that we are handcuffed together. If we are going to have a bath or a shower, it will have to be together."

"Aye."

England blushed heavily. "B-but!~"

"We're brothers, ye ninny. I've seen ye naked befoore!"

"But that was when I was 5 years old!"

"I seen ye recently ta."

England turned a brighter shade of red. "What? When?"

"Yer a streaker when pished. It's oon tha internet ta, ye bassa!"

"What?" Scotland glanced at England who resembled a tomato. He smirked before laughing a bit.

"This isn't funny!" Scotland just laughed harder.

England tried to stamp his foot but was tugged along the hallway.

Scotland pulled him into the bathroom. England's bathroom was fairly big. It had a huge bath that could fit 3 or 4 people easily. It had an electric shower above it. Scotland grabbed towels from the cupboard, with England in tow. He threw the towels on the sink by the bath so they could use them on the way out and turned to shower on.

It was the afternoon now, about 3 o'clock.

He saw Scotland dig around in the back pocket of his jeans, the only bit of clothing he was wearing. He knew what Scotland was getting. Throughout his entire history, Scotland always carried a tiny leather book on his person. It was the size of a palm and had a brown cover. England had pinched it once to see why it was so important but it was completely blank when England read it. He had always been curious to why it was worth so much to Scotland and how it managed to stay in a perfect condition for so long.

Scotland placed it beside the shower and removed his jeans. England resigned himself to taking off his clothes, slowly and hesitantly. Scotland waited a while but when England was moving too slowly for his liking, he decided to 'help' him.

"Ah ah AHHH! What are you doing?" Scotland had begun forcing England out of his clothes. Scotland ripped England's shirt's sleeve off as that was the only way to remove it while wearing handcuffs.

"Scotland! That was a brand new shirt!"

"It was covered in vomit! If ye donnae wan' ta ruin yer new shirts, then donnae wear them when ye go oot drinkin'!"

The short blonde was bright red in the face as he stood there in the nude. He felt so self conscious. Scotland stepped into the hot shower, pulling England in behind him.

England was trying to stand as far as possible away from Scotland so the water only fell on his hand which was being pulled up to Scotland's neck because he was scrubbing the dried blood from his back.

The red head glanced behind him. He sighed and rolled his eyes. England was staring at the door, like he was thinking of trying to escape.

Seconds later though, the younger brother felt two strong hands on his shoulder, pulling him back, under the water. He was pushed against the wall where the shower head was, forcefully. He flinched as the cold ceramic tiles smashed heavily into his shoulder. He stood up straight, gripping his shoulder in pain. It was going to be really bad bruise later.

He was completely under the water now. He felt something cold and gooey being squeezed onto the top of his head. He shivered.

Suddenly rough fingers began scrubbing his scalp harshly. He yelped.

"Ah! Scotland! Ah! That's too har~ IT HURTS!"

"Shut up!" He felt the fingers press hard into his head.

"I can~ Ah!~ wash myself!"

"If ye could, why dinnae ye?" England felt like a child again.

"Ow! Stop treating me like a baby!"

"Wsheesht! Yer the one actin' like a wee bairne agen!"

England squirmed violently under his brother's tough scrubbing method on his poor head. When Scotland finally stopped, his scalp felt raw and red. Scotland grabbed the shower head from the wall and held it more over the blonde. He felt tears prick at his eyes and he sniffed as he felt the white suds slid off of his hair. He knew Scotland had been rough on purpose so that it hurt for England.

Scotland ran his fingers through England's hair very gently now, cleaning out the bubbles. He was being surprisingly soft and caring now, unlike his violent washing method earlier. The blonde sniffed loudly again.

"Ye crying?" England shook his head. Scotland huffed before giving a hard flick to the back of the blonde's hair.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Fer lying!" Scotland snapped back.

England sniffed again. The shower was making his sniffling worse than normal. Scotland let go of England's head after he had carefully removed all the shampoo and placed the shower head back in its stand.

England looked behind him to see Scotland rubbing shampoo into his own hair now. He was carefully with the back of his head. His finger delicately touched a small bump and he flinched. He had clearly found the source of the blood.

He scowled slightly before continuing to wash the rest of his hair. He pulled England out of the way of the hot water so he could step under the shower. The shampoo was soon out of his hair too.

He quickly washed the rest of his body with England's shower gel. He wrinkled his nose at it though.

"Ugh… It's ta fruity. Ye a wee lassie oor whit?" England scowled at Scotland but it looked funny with his heavy blush. Scotland tossed the shower gel at him.

"Hurry up. I wannae git oot." England cleaned himself swiftly, fearing his brother's wrath.

The red head clicked the switch for the shower and grabbed one of the towels from the sink. He wrapped it around his waist while England grabbed a towel and did the same. His cheeks were still a bright scarlet.

They both tried to dry themselves but it was hard as they both kept pulling on the chain. Finally they had managed to dry themselves.

Since Scotland only had jeans with him, he just changed back into his jeans again. England had pulled on a pair of dark green trousers. He had no idea how he was going to put on a shirt or jacket. He saw Scotland wearing the same jeans.

He swallowed once before doing the gentlemanly thing and offering his own clothes. Scotland snorted.

"Yer a wee, scrawny lad with tha figure of a wee lass." England flushed red again.

It was true though. England always was on the thin side. He was short and skinny and he hated being reminded of his lack of muscle or bulk.

Scotland, on the other hand, was tall. He wasn't quite as bulky as America and had a vague air of scrawniness like England but he still close to America and had notable muscles.

Actually, now that the blonde thought about it, the rest of his brothers were fairly slight as well, despite having defined muscles too. Maybe his family was just naturally thin?

The shower had taken far longer than expected. It was nearly five when they were done and dressed. England felt embarrassed just wearing trousers but with no way to put on a shirt, he resigned himself.

Both brothers felt hungry by now, having spent most of the day searching or trying to break the handcuffs. Hungry men are usually grumpy men. Of course when two brothers who fight often become hungry and can't escape each other, it is a lot, lot worse.

They fought over what to eat for an hour before finally settling for eating left over cold shepherd's pie from the fridge.

They searched hopelessly for the key again for another three hours. It was clear that it was not in the house by now. They decided grudgingly that they should go to sleep for now. They agreed to share the big guest bed. England change into his PJ bottoms while Scotland remained in his jeans.

They both tried to sleep as far as possible away from each other while facing opposite directions. Both of their arms were twisted back over their shoulder though because of the handcuff which was an uncomfortable position. Their pride stopped them from changing positions or doing anything about it though. Eventually they both fell asleep.

**(A/N - LONG! Very long! Such a long chapter... **

**I blushed at some points in this. If you just read what England is saying and ignore what is actually happening - it sounds dirty. They are brothers, no incest! Honestly! ;,,,;**

**Can anyone guess what France did to England? And why Scotland is probably going to kill him?**

**Not all the chapters are going to be as long as this one hopefully. **

**6 more days of handcuffed fun! How long it will to write? Maybe a fortnight?**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	26. Story 7 Chapter 3

**DAY 2**

England was the first one to wake. His eyes opened slowly at first then quickly when he realised that he was being held by something. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and realised that the 'something' was a 'someone'. Scotland.

At some point in their sleep, their positions had changed and now they were in the middle of the bed. Scotland had his strong arms wrapped around England's shoulders and head. England had one arm wrapped round Scotland's pale chest while the other one resting under his head because of the handcuff pulling England's arm towards Scotland's hand. England's head had been leaning on Scotland's chest by the heart. Even now he could hear the steady beating of his heart.

He looked up at Scotland's face. It was relaxed for once. Not a smirk or a sadistic smile or an annoyed glare. His mouth was just slightly open so he could breath. His hair was messily hanging over his eyes in spikes. He looked peaceful.

England squirmed a little, embarrassed and uncomfortable to be like this with his brother. His arms tightened briefly so England stopped moving. He looked up at his brother's face again, worried that he had awoken him. Scotland was still asleep though.

England tried again when Scotland's arms loosened again. The arms tightened again but a lot this time. England gave a little yelp as the wind was squeezed out of him. He looked up again, terrified that his brother was going to strangle him in his sleep. He saw two glowing green eyes glaring down at him.

"Sco~!"

He felt his body being crushed harshly and he gasped loudly for air. Seconds later, the red head's arms were completely gone.

The blonde guessed that he would have two bruises on the side of his shoulders tomorrow. He needed to get rid of these handcuffs soon before he was completely black, blue and purple.

Scotland rolled to the edge of the bed, keeping his arm by England so the handcuff didn't pull. He sighed, remembering that he was still attached to his younger brother involuntarily. England sat up properly and looked down at his brother. The red head looked…

It was hard to describe how he looked.

England finally settled on disappointment. After a while, England's stomach rumbled, he grabbed it in embarrassment, tugging on the hand cuff by accident. Scotland glanced at him and sat up.

"I'll make porridge…" He sounded gruff and fed up.

Both brothers tried to slide off the opposite sides of the bed to be stopped by the handcuffs. Rather than wait for his younger brother to climb across the bed to him so they could get up normally, Scotland pulled the handcuffs as hard as he could sharply. England was forcefully pulled across the bed and landed roughly on the ground. Scotland stood up.

"Git up." He didn't sound angry but the command still had the same force behind it. England obeyed grudgingly.

He followed his brother into the kitchen and moved around beside him as he tried to make their breakfast. Porridge was one of the rare items that Scotland could sometimes actually cook half decently. He was just as bad a cook as England, and similarly to his youngest brother, denies being unable to cook.

Oats, milk and other ingredients were added to the mixture before cooked in the microwave. England made some tea while they waited. Scotland served two bowls of the steaming hot, lumpy porridge and grabbed a jar of honey and brown sugar from the cupboard. They had to sit shoulder to shoulder. England had difficulty eating as he used his left hand. He even dropped a blob of the warm gooey food on his lap which earned a smirk from Scotland.

Scotland had added a lot of honey to his porridge and about 5 teaspoons of sugar to his tea.

The sour-attituded red head had a surprisingly big sweet tooth. Scotland's apparent other national drink (the first one being whiskey), Irn Bru, actually has more sugar than Coca Cola and to the English man, it was just intolerably sweet. Probably why Scotland is the only place on Earth where coke is not the number one soft drink. It was horrible for your teeth too…

England thought why he clumsily ate. The red head's country actually had a lot of unhealthy food… His brother was actually proud that they can deep fried almost anything… including Mars bars, pizzas, hamburgers and the traditional fish…. If Scotland can dip something in batter and fry it, he will…

On the other hand, Scotland had a lot of healthy food at the same time… Porridge, haggis, salmon and many other types of fish…

He sighed.

It was just more evidence that his brother was odd… or bi-polar… Like in the shower yesterday when he nearly scrubbed the blonde bald but then gently washed the soap out… The older brother was just too confusing for words…

A metal spoon hitting a ceramic bowl distracted him. It was his brother throwing down his spoon. Scotland had finished his porridge first and was impatiently waiting for England to finish. He stared at England intently, who was only half way through his meal, and the blonde squirmed uncomfortably. The red head ignored his discomfort and stared harder. England was having a hard time concentrating or eating now. He had a feeling his brother knew this and was staring just to put England off.

He gave up.

"I'm done…." He had only eaten ¾ of the bowl.

"Barry…" The red head paused and thought for a moment. "Do ye hav' anae idea how we git inta this mess?" England jumped in surprise at the sudden question.

"What?"

"I cannae remember yestaday much." He explained. "So how did ye git us into this?"

England snorted. "How do you know it is MY fault. It could have been your fault too! And you probably can't remember anything because of your stupid drinking problem!"

Scotland raised an eyebrow. "I dinnae drink yestaday."

England rolled his eyes. "How can you be so sure? You can't even remember!"

Scotland grabbed England's cheeks in one hand and pulled him forward and blew onto his face. It smelt very sweet with a hint of morning breath and cigarettes. England tried to push himself away in disgust but Scotland had a grip on his cheeks. He knew his brother didn't brush his teeth last night or this morning. Scotland looked expectantly at him.

"Weel? Smell any liquer?" England shook his head and moved away quickly as Scotland released his grasp. "So nae me fault. I wasnae drunk but ye were so whit happened?"

England paused and tried to go back to that night. He usually avoided trying to remember his drunken nights because some things were better left not known or remembered. "I don't remember much… France was there at some point… so was America and China I think… But the latter two left before my memory begins to blacked out"

Scotland leaned back in his chair and thought. He sighed huffily. He seemed to being that a lot recently. He also seemed tired despite just waking up. He stretched his arms. "Whut do ye suggest we do, wee brother?"

"Try looking again?" Scotland sighed grumpily in reply.

Flying Mint bunny hovered into sight suddenly. England grinned as the small rabbit flew into his chest, giving him a small hug. "Sir!"

"Flying Mint Bunny!" The bunny backed off a couple of feet and stared at the handcuffs.

"You two are attached to each other." He stated.

"Aye." Scotland replied moodily. The cheery fluttering rabbit ignored Scotland's bad mood.

"You are both half naked too!" Scotland groaned.

"We ken!" England had an idea suddenly.

"Excuse me. Can you please contact some of the fairies and ask them to come here?"

"Of course Sir!" The rabbit disappeared.

"…barry…" He muttered. England looked at Scotland as he drummed his fingers, impatiently on the table.

The magical bunny soon returned with 5 fairies. The fairies rushed over to Scotland first then England. They spoke quickly and excitably. It was hard to understand at first. After some difficult conversing with the hyped up creatures, the two countries soon got them to look for the key while they stayed at home. Apparently neither brother wanted to be seen chained to the other in public.

Scotland stopped one of them before they left though. He whispered a command to it and it saluted before heading in a different direction from the rest of them.

"What did you ask that fairy to do?"

"I wanne clean clothes and me cigarettes."

"Oh." England stood up and piled up the dirty dishes. He looked expectantly at Scotland who was lazily rocking back and forward in his chair.

"Stand you wanker. I want to do the dishes!"

"You wannae clean? This is why I say yer a wifey." Scotland smirked as England glared at him.

I am not a lady!" He snapped.

"Aye. Yer a wee lassie!" England flushed red angrily. Scotland stood up anyway. He grabbed the plates from England's surprised hand and dropped them roughly in the sink.

"Clean them la'er when I'm goon."

"Scotland! You wanker! Let me just do the dishes!"

"Nee! Shut up! Give me a reason why I shouldnae cut yer hand off so I canne leave!" England gulped.

His brother dragged him along the hallway and into England's bedroom. "Git dressed!" The red head raided his wardrobe and threw a pair of trousers and shirt at the blonde. England changed into the trousers. He looked at the shirt sceptically.

"How am I meant to put on a shirt like this?" Scotland rolled his eyes and yanked the shirt from his hands. He held the seam of the right sleeve and ripped it open. England gasped in anger and surprise. He tossed it back.

"Put it on." England complied out of fear and annoyance, even though the shirt was ruin. Scotland grabbed England's sewing kit and began to sew up the seam. He was surprisingly good at sewing.

He remembered that Prussia had once laughed at the red head because he could sew and called him a woman. Scotland had punched him in the face. It had quickly escalated into a huge fight. He couldn't remember how the fight had ended but he knew Prussia didn't mention sewing to the sadistic red head again.

Scotland told him once that sewing was important though. You needed it, he claimed, to stitch up a cut or a bad wound and to mend clothing and amour while on the battle field. It made sense to a practical person like the red head. His brother only knew basic stitches for clothing and wounds and he couldn't knit or do anything else with a needle that was creative, like embroidery.

He watched as Scotland carefully sewed down the seam, his emerald eyes staring intently on the needle. He was concentrating solely on the task. It took a while and during that time the fairy had returned with a Scotland's uniform and a couple of packets of cigarettes and other things for staying overnight.

The fairy helped him sew up his shirt sleeve when he ripped it, to put it on.

The fairy was cheerful and chattered a lot. Scotland didn't say much to her but England talked to her animatedly. He loved talking to the fairies. Scotland was staring out of the window, smoking his fourth cigarette when the fairy finished. They were fully dressed now. The fairy flew off to join the others in the search.

The two countries were stumped now. They didn't want to go out and risk being seen in this embarassing situation but they were bored, cramped and very grumpy. They avoided talking to each other, decidedly fed up with each other's presence. They sat on the sofa, shoulder to shoulder. The silence was awkward.

A fairy bobbed into view. The two countries were both watching TV now, only mildly interested in it. He tugged at spiky red hair. Scotland glanced at him.

"Gofannon?" The small Welsh fairy nodded and perched himself on Scotland's shoulder. His voice was surprisingly loud for such a small person.

"Sirs! You two have stolen from the fae." Scotland raised an eyebrow.

"Whit?"

"That chain which bonds you is made by fairies. Me, to be precise. That is my property you two wear." England gaped at him. Scotland smiled a bit.

"We shall gladly return this ta ye if ye provide tha key." Gofannon tilted his head to the side.

"You have lost the key?"

"Misplaced."

"Then you two are stuck like this. I do not possess the key and it is impossible to duplicate." Scotland frowned.

"Canne ye tell us aboot tha handcuffs then? I tried summoning tha key and using magic ta break it but it didnae work. These are special ain't they?" The fairy smirked knowingly.

"These chains are old, very old. From the times of Merlin and maybe before. I made them using special and magically charmed metal from deep within Mother Earth that never rusts or breaks. They can only be opened by one key alone which shares the same metal of the handcuffs. As you have noticed, they are unaffected by magic too. "

"Why did you make them?" England asked curiously. Gofannon turned to England.

"Queen Gyre Carlin ordered them to be made herself." Scotland's eyes widened as he recognised the name. It belonged to the fairy who ruled over all the fae in his country.

"She asked me to design and make them so that the wearer cannot use magic. They were made to capture and hold human wizards and users of magic." Scotland groaned and placed his head into his hands, forcing Gofannon into flight again. The tiny black smith tsked at Scotland's sudden movement.

"But Scotland can still use magic." England pointed out.

"That's because it's designed for normal human wizards. He is too strong. Scotland's magic will only be greatly weakened by them." He landed on the nearby coffee table and stood up tall and proud. "If I wanted to though, I could easily make ones strong enough to completely confine his magic." He boasted. He was clearly a prideful person.

"Ye could only do tha' 'cause I'm already partly sealed…." The red head pointed out. The small man shrugged.

Scotland sat up again. "Cheers fer tha info." The man looked at them.

"I only tell you this because I want what is rightfully mine back. They have been missing for a couple of centuries and I will be glad to retrieve them." England looked at the chain closely.

"It is likely that they have been in my basement the entire time… I'm sorry. I didn't know they belonged to you."

The faerie shrugged. "The queen doesn't require them anymore. I only want them back as I spent a lot of time on them. Now that I know where they are I am not worried. I shall wait until you find the key then I will come back for them." He turned to look each one in the eye.

"However stealing from the fae is dangerous. The punishment for the crime is daunting. I shall not report you but if another fairy discovers where you got them from, you two will be…"

He shook his head as if it was better not knowing what would happen. He bowed from the waist respectfully. His wings fluttered before he took flight. He flew from the room. The news was unwelcomed. It only became worse when the fairies returned, reporting that the key was nowhere in England at all. The day ended with the brothers once again sharing the same bed grudgingly.

**(A/N - Yep, 5 more days of forced brotherly bonding left. **

**Gofannon is a welsh fairy that was a blacksmith. Apparently he was good at his job**

**Gyre Carlin is the queen of all the fairies in Scotland. Apparently she is like a giant ogress or a hag. She can appear as a beautiful person though. Her name means 'greedy old woman' and she is quite cruel and demeaning. She is also meant to be sly and cunning and able to charm men (human or mythical) to do her bidding. She is powerful and rules over fairies, elfs, nymphs, witches, sorceresses who ride behind her when she goes riding around the Highlands. She rides around alot on magical steeds. She is indifferent to All Hallows Eve (Halloween) and doesn't fear the evil spirits. She is sometimes thought as the mother witch.**

**I think that is all I need to say. Review please!)**


	27. Story 7 Chapter 4

**DAY 3**

The day began badly for both of them.

They had to get the fairies to sew up the sleeves of any shirt or jacket they were wearing that day, just so they could wear them. The process itself took an hour and a half so both were moody and impatient.

They had argued what to eat for breakfast, Scotland then had his cigarettes binned in revenge and it ended in a physical fight. They had wrestled on the ground for a few minutes before Flying Mint Rabbit stopped it. By that time though, Scotland had lost his appetite with a punch to his stomach and England had a black eye and bad bruise on his cheek and rips.

The two ended up sulking silently in front of the TV again. The fae had promised to widen their search to Scotland, Wales and the north of France. The two British nations decided to go ask France, America and China in the afternoon, in hope of discovering the key's location or how they got into this situation.

In the morning though, they watched a couple of movies and the tension between the two grew as they silently brooded. Both nations kept their emotions bottled up as they waited for the afternoon to arrive.

At lunch, the phone rang and Scotland glanced at it as England answered it.

"Oh America. Hello." Scotland suddenly glared at the phone.

_In America._..

America was on the other end of the line. He was grinning goofily as he talked with his friend. He wanted the shorter blonde to watch a horror movie with him tonight.

"So how are you dude?"

The English man's voice came over the phone. "I'm doing okay. I apologise for drinking so much the other night…"

America laughed a little. "No prob, dude! I'm used to it!" He heard the Briton mumble another apology and grinned.

"I told ya, it's totally fine. So England, do you want to stay over at my house tonight?"

"Actually, I ~ AHHH! Wait! Stop! Wha~!" He heard some struggling before someone else's voice came over the phone.

"Nee. I donnae think he will."

"Huh?"

"England is a tad busy tanight with me." America lost his smile, and he frowned into the phone.

"Who is this?" He asked coldly.

"Hmmm… His aulder brother…" America stopped and glared into the phone.

"Who?"

"Scotland, ye ninny. I'm sorry but me wee broth is ta busy with meh ta come over tanight." He heard more struggling over the voice and England trying to yell but being muffled.

"Hey! What are you doing with England?" He yelled into the phone.

"Sorry but I donnae like ye so I'm hangin' up. Anything ye wannae say first, Iggy?"

"You bloody wan~!" The phone was hung up abruptly.

America stood up, dropping the phone and grabbing his trusty bomber jacket. He took out his mobile.

"Hello? I want one first class ticket to London. When is the next flight? In two hours! I'll take it!" He hung up his phone and rushed to the door, determined to get to England as quickly as he could.

_Back in England's house..._

England was trying to grab the phone out of Scotland's hand.

"Dammit! Why are your arms so fucking long?" Scotland laughed, holding onto England's waist so he couldn't stand up and reach the phone. It was interesting how it came to this.

Scotland's glare had hardened when England began apologising over the phone. When he heard America invite England over for the night, he had lost his temper.

He had spent the entire day suppressing his annoyance and anger and he wanted to let it out on something or someone. And since America was just conveniently on the phone, why waste the opportunity? First though, he had to get England off the phone.

Luckily they were handcuffed together so he couldn't escape or run away. England was half way through his answer when Scotland wrapped his arms around England's thin waist. He hauled England up and onto his lap, so that the English man sat on it like a child. England had shouted out in surprise.

Scotland smirked. That would freak America out.

He had grabbed the phone from his hand. He had held England's free hand in his handcuffed hand so he was immobile. England had struggled to grab the phone but his only free hand was trapped by Scotland's hand and his other hand was stuck in the hand cuff and he couldn't move it much.

Scotland had talked to America over the phone. Whenever England had tried to talk, he would find his mouth covered so he sounded muffled.

America had sounded freaked out over the phone. Finally Scotland let England speak, only to hang up half way through his sentence.

England was desperate to phone America back and calm him down but he was trapped on top of Scotland. His brother tossed the phone gently so it landed on the floor behind the sofa. England was stuck, straddling Scotland with his waist tied down by the red head's arms.

"Scotland! You fucking git! Let me go!" Scotland sighed.

"Nee and mind yer coorse language. Fucking brat…."

"Why did you do that?" He demanded. Scotland shrugged. England squirmed and struggled more.

He froze when he felt Scotland's head lean against the back of his neck. The red head's breath tickled the tiny blonde hairs on the back of his neck. He blushed slightly. Scotland sounded tired, despite giving an order.

"Stay still." England stayed still. He listened to Scotland breathing, it sounded like he was asleep or nearly asleep. He remembered when he woke that Scotland had bags under his eyes and as far away from England as possible like he had been up a while.

"Are you tired? Did you not sleep well last night?"

"Aye, Nee. I'm tired but I had a gud night sleep."

"Why are you tired then?"

"Hmmm… Used ta much magic."

"Magic? What were you using magic for?"

"Ta talk ta Wales and a couple of magical creatures… in their dreams…"

"You can do that?"

"Aye… It's easy but tha fuckin' handcuffs made it hard ta so I had ta use alotta magic…" England nodded, showing the he understood. He didn't know that Scotland used magic so often. He guessed that if the hand cuffs weren't here, he would use a lot more.

"Why you just go to sleep now?"

"Hmmm…" Scotland just hummed an answer and tightened his grip around England. His brother was acting almost nice…

England sighed quietly. He felt the pressure disappear from the back of his neck. A hand gently ruffled his hair messily.

"Ger oof. We're gonnae go ta France and phone China." England pouted.

"Why do we have to go see that stupid Frog face? That damn git can't help us!" Scotland flicked the back of England's ear. "OW!" He rubbed it.

"France is meh best friend, need I remind ye." England grumbled.

"I don't see how or why…" Scotland smirked.

"Cause it annoys ya so we both like it. Now git up!" England stood up, followed by Scotland. The red head stretched. "Gawd. I'm gettin' auld."

England reached for the car keys. Scotland suddenly snatched England's car keys.

"I'm driving."

"Wait! What? You can't drive my car!"

"Oh but I hafta." Scotland grinned as he yanked the keys from England's reach. "Ye cannae drive cause yer on tha left and tha driver's seat is on tha right."

England glared as Scotland smirked sadistically. He was suddenly taking back the thought that Scotland could be nice.

Scotland wasn't a bad driver. He rarely speeded or got into trouble with the road police. He had very few car crashes or accidents on his record. England would rather have Scotland drive over North Ireland or Ireland, who were reckless and dangerous drivers to the point of it being suicide to let them drive. However, Scotland liked tormenting England, even in the slightest way so one reckless joy ride to Paris later…

"Fuck Scotland! I think I left my stomach back in London!" The redhead smirked widely.

"Yer green." England did a pale green tint to his face, like he was about to be motion sick.

"You did that on purpose! You bastard!"

"Aye but I dinnae think ye would be this dour. Come on ye wee lassie." They exited the car on Scotland's side.

The exterior of France's house was huge, extravagant, over decorative and very gaudy. England cringed at it, while Scotland just dragged him up to the front door. The redhead took a gold key from under a random flower pot by the oversized door. He inserted it in the lock and turned it until it clicked. The door swung open.

"France! Ger yer French ass oot here! I need alcohol, cigarettes and cake! In tha' order." He shouted into the house. France rushed into the hallway and paled when he saw the two brothers.

He looked relieved though when he saw Scotland was grinning friendlily at him. England glared at him coldly, like he was trying to kill the French man with a deadly stare alone. France, however seemed more stressed or worried for some reason but smiled tensely anyway.

"Oh! L'Ecosse! How nice of tu to drop in. Angleterre… How un-nice of tu to drop in…"

"Shut it Frogface! I'm not here by choice!" He snapped.

"Aye." He held up the handcuffed arm and France twitched before forcing out a laugh.

"Ohonhonhonhon! Tu have a short angry blonde on ton charm bracelet, mon cher."

"We're the same height, you wanker!" Scotland smirked.

"Aye and he'll be joined by another blonde ta unless I git meh whiskey." France nodded, grinning, finally relaxing when he was sure that any danger was over.

"Oui! Of course, mon cher!" Scotland followed France into the kitchen. "I just finished a fabulous Gateau à la fraise!"

"Two slices then."

"Oui!" France and Scotland sat at the table.

England still couldn't believe these two were such good friends. They were complete opposites in most ways. They exchanged a couple of jokes, wine and whiskey, comments and cigarettes between the two of them, ignoring the scowling Englishman. He felt tense, while behind the 'enemy lines'.

He watched France cautiously as he cut three slices of the delicious looking strawberry cake. He placed each slice on a plate he slid two slices over to Scotland and kept on to himself. Scotland began eating the cake greedily.

England reached for the second one, only to have his hand whacked by the small metal spoon that Scotland was using to eat. England tried again. The spoon whacked him harder.

"Ow."

"Git yer own cake!... or yer own French friend who canne bake ye one."

"There are two slices."

"Oui. Deux pour L'Ecosse." England glared at his brother as he ate both of the slices.

_Damn him and his stupid sweet tooth… I hope all his teeth rot and fall out…_ England thought bitter and angry thoughts.

Eventually the two happily conversing countries got around to the important matter of why the two British nations were here.

"So Francis, I'm a wondering whit tha hell happened two nights aga with meh wee broth?" France leaned backwards slightly, like he was thinking. England noticed a small bead of sweat on his brow like he was nervous.

"Euh. I remember Angleterre drinking a lot. America, China and I left after he threw up." Scotland looked sceptically at him.

"So whit really happened?"

"Ohonhonhon. L'Ecosse, tu know me well."

"Ta weel. Now spill."

"Fine. Thiz is ze truth. I took Angleterre back to hiz home and tried to rape him." He said with a shrug.

"WHAT?" They both ignored England's outburst. He was bright red in the face and shaking with anger.

"Then whut?"

"Tu zhowed up and zent me home."

"Nae befoore hitting ye, right?"

"Once in ze stomach. Quite hard but it waz nice to zee ze passionate zide of tu." France said the last part suggestively. Scotland laughed loudly and France joined in.

"Ye deserved it. Ye fuckin' masochist." He said in a kidding voice.

"Ze sadist. I am ze sadist like tu. We go well together, non?" Corrected France as he shuffled closer to Scotland.

"Aye. Of coorse." Scotland said dismissively.

England felt like hitting his head off the table repeatedly. Not only was he nearly raped by France the other night but now the blonde was hitting on his brother who had stopped him, right in front of England. Scotland seemed to be ignoring his advancements though but there was no doubt that he had noticed them.

"Do ye ken aboot tha handcuffs."

"Non. I thought zat zis waz the rezults of ze zexual games." France joked. Scotland rolled his eyes.

"Seriously France."

"Ze anzwer iz non. I left after tu hit me."

"Hmmm…" Scotland looked thoughtful before standing up.

"Cheers mate. When I git this oaf oof meh arm, lets meet up fer a dram."

"Oui. It'z a date."

"Aye but donnae call it tha'." France began stroking Scotland's arm gently.

"Oui. Tu know, it'z tres sexy to have a trois-some with ze handcuffs."

"No!" England cried out without thinking. The other two nations turned to him, suddenly remembering that he was there. Scotland took this chance to remove his arm from France's grip.

"Nee and we're gahing." France pouted as Scotland walked away with England trying to speed him up, so they could leave faster.

A lot later back at England's house, England was trying to phone China when the doorbell rang. Scotland ignored it while England put the phone down.

"Get up Scotland. Please. I need to answer the door." The blonde remembered his manners. Scotland sighed huffily. He was impatient to get out of these handcuffs. He wanted his personal space and freedom back so he could smoke and drink freely again. He stood up and went with England to the door.

The red head opened the door and it was easier for him to do it. He had only just opened the door when a fist flew out and smashed into his nose, right between the eyes.

"Fuck!..." The world blurred before fading to white then black. He woke less than a minute later, facing the ceiling. He had dragged England down with him by accident. America was looking down on his angrily. Oh right! He had forgotten that America had called earlier….

He was regretting that now…

England looked like he was regretting it as well. He had forgotten to call America back. Scotland jumped to his feet again.

"Whit was tha' fer, ye ass!" He knew why, he had implied that he was forcing England to sleep with him tonight earlier over the phone.

"I'm saving England! Like a real hero!"

"From whut, ye twat!"

"You, Dude! You have been spending too much time with France! Come on England! Let's get away from here!"

"You stupid wanker!" England had only just stood up. He wasn't used to getting up quickly after a blow or being dragged down. "I can't!"

"Yes you can!"

"Nee! He cannae!"

"Be quiet. England is not your punching bag!"

"But I really can't, America!"

"Yes you can! You don't have to listen to this 'Porridge Wog'!" Scotland grabbed America by the collar of his bomber jacket and pulled up. He couldn't lift the American off the floor, with England holding down one of his arms but he managed to get him on his tiptoes.

"Whit did ye say, ye fucking yankee!"

"Scotland!" England snapped in a warning voice. Scotland didn't release the dangling blonde though. "America. I physically cannot come to your house tonight because of this." He held up his hand so the handcuff was clear. America followed to chain of the handcuff from Englandmto Scotland.

"Dude… You handcuffed yourself to your younger brother?... Pervert…" America found himself slammed against the door roughly.

"Remind me why I cannae beat tha shite oot of this fat ass?" America looked hurt.

"I'm not fat…"

"You can't hit him because of our international relationships, our boss and the fact we are handcuffed and I don't want to be included in the fight."

Scotland glared at America but kept him pinned against the door. "Where did ye learn tha words 'Porridge Wog'?"

"From England." England paled suddenly. He suddenly wished he never said all those insults about his brothers in front of America. _Damn America, always trying to be honest and heroic!_

"Whit else did he call meh!"

"Ummm… 'Stupid Jock', 'Sawney', 'Tinker'." He paused in thought. "He also called someone a 'Sheep Shagger', a'Taffy', 'Mack', 'Mick' and 'Pikey'… but I don't think he was talking about you when he said those ones…"

Scotland flushed red at first but suddenly returned to his ordinary expression. There was a deadly calm over the Scotsman as he let go of America's collar. He stepped back and stared blankly at England. The short blonde was seriously considering trying to saw off his wrist, just to escape Scotland and his gaze. The red head was too calm, it was scary….

America was calm as well, though he still had a hand on his tummy, like he was worried about his weight. "So England can't stay at my house tonight?"

"No, because I'm chained to my brother."

"Why can't Scotland come too?" The red head snorted.

"Nar. Yer fer real? I rather be clagged in here!"

America looked confused as he tried to figure out what Scotland had said. After a few moments, he had a rough idea.

"Oh… So Scotland doesn't want to come to my house?" England nodded. America broke out into a grin.

"Okay! Then I will just stay here!"

"Nee! Tha reason I donnae wannae stay at yer hoose is because yer there!" America just shrugged and walked in, ignoring Scotland's protests.

"Why don't you just unlock the handcuffs?" He said as he plopped down onto the sofa.

"It is missing."

"So when did this happen?"

"Two nights ago when I was drunk."

"Have you tried cutting it?"

"Yes. We can't break them."

"Can I try?" Scotland was fed up with America's questions. England, however, was happy enough that he had a friend to talk to. If Scotland got to talk to France, then he deserved to talk to America. Plus he was terrified that Scotland would kill him when the taller blonde left.

"I suppose. Give it a go if you wish." America stood up and began pulling at the chain, trying to break one of the small links. Scotland was using his free hand to text. England didn't pay attention to his brother. After 30 minutes, America gave up.

"Man. Those chains are tough…" Scotland rolled his eyes but turned back to the TV. It was fairly late now and dark outside.

"Gah back ta yer hoose now. It's late and I wannae gah ta bed."

"No way dude! I'm staying here with England!"

"Tch!" Scotland sounded unconvinced but England gave the blonde permission.

America didn't have any PJs or toiletries with him so he borrowed England's. He refused to leave England alone so squeezed into the bed with the two brothers. Scotland kept trying to kick him out but America was just too strong so he gave up.

It was uncomfortable with three men in one bed but eventually all of them fell asleep.

(A/N -

Porridge Wog, Stupid Jock, Sawney and Tinker - Ethnic slurs against Scottish people

Sheep Shagger, Taffy - Ethnic slurs against Welsh people

Mack, Mick and Pikey - Ethnic slurs against Irish people

Yeah England has been bad mouthing his brothers behind their backs... don't fell bad for them though. They do it too.


	28. Story 7 Chapter 5

**DAY 4**

The next morning, Scotland was the first to wake. He found his arms pinned to the side by two blondes who had unconscious decided to hug each other, with him stuck in the middle.

"Och! Hey England! America! Wake up!"

"Sod off…. France…" The shorter of the two blondes murmured before waking up.

"I'm yer brothar! Scotland!" England mumbled again.

"… Go away… Scotland…" Scotland huffed, already pissed off.

"I would if I could… Now ger up!" England opened his eyes and rolled away, detaching himself from America's arms. America then wrapped his arms completely around Scotland's torso as he was still asleep. England sat up and stared down at Scotland who was wrestling to un-wrap America's arms.

"Why wonnae he wake up?" He complained loudly as America tightened his grip. England blinked.

"Oh… Right. I forgot that America was here… He doesn't usually wake up until he smells food or breakfast."

"Tha' donnae help meh!" England couldn't help but let out a small giggle as America clung onto the redhead, while he was trying to stand up. Scotland shot him a cold glare. Scotland tried pushing the American off again when he suddenly grasped him hard so that his back crack and he gave a small hiss of pain.

"Cack!" America snuggled his head into Scotland's chest as the wind was squeezed out of him. "G-Git him oof of meh!"

After some help from England, Scotland was soon giving the young blonde an awkward piggy back ride. The American had his arms around Scotland's stomach and his legs around one of his legs. Scotland had to hold him under the armpits to stop him slipping down and dragging along the ground, tripping Scotland up. It was a very difficult position to hold the blonde in so Scotland had difficulty holding him up and moving around. He eventually waddled down to the kitchen, gritting his teeth angrily.

"I'm gonnae kill tha bassa once he's oof meh!" Scotland threatened and England found himself suppressing another giggle. Scotland was obviously not in the laughing mood but he wasn't in a violent mood either. He wanted to keep it that way.

"Don't worry. I'll just fry some bacon or pancakes and he'll wake up."

"Tha'll take tah loong!" He turned on the cold water tap at full power. He placed his thumb on it and water shot out of the sink and onto America. America spluttered and jumped away from the freezing water and from Scotland. He rolled across the floor in GI Joe style and landed in a crouch.

"What's happening? Where am I? If you are a super evil master mind, be warned! I'm a hero!" England turned off the tap annoyed but also secretly amused.

"That was unnecessary, Scotland." He shrugged in reply, leaning against the counter, and watched America feel along the ground blindly. His glasses were still in England's bedroom.

"Hey! Where am I? Where's Texas?"

"Texas?"

"That's what he named his bloody glasses."

"Oh." Scotland smirked evilly, realising the sudden potential of the situation. America was basically blind, his glasses were upstairs, England couldn't go get them without Scotland and Scotland was quite unwilling to go without having a little fun first.

The blonde stood up, despite being nearly blind. "Come on. Let's go get his glasses before he breaks my kitchen."

"Nee. Nae yet."

"Come on. He's basically useless like this."

"Who's talking? Who are you?" America stared at the outline of two blurry blobs. "Are you bad guys?"

"Aye. Yer been kidnapped."

"Sco~!" His mouth was covered.

"Seriously dude! What happened to England then? And the other one!" Scotland glared at America.

"Ye mean Scotland?"

"Yeah, I think so…. What did ya do with them?"

"Hmmm… Who canne ken?"

"Prepare to be defeated bad guy! The hero always wins! Justice will prevail! Good will always win over evil! I will beat you! If you dare lay a finger on England then I will ki~"

"Shut it." Scotland was fed up with the way America kept dragging on and on.

"Justice forever!"

"Jesus. Ye canne stop now."

"I will never stop until I stop you, evil-doer!"

"England is braw, I was jus' pulling yer leg."

"Iggy was in a BRAWL?"

"England, yer bairne's a edjit…. Ye think he would recognise meh accent…" He removed his hand so England could speak. He gave a heavy sigh.

"I know…" They watched for a couple of minutes as America threatened to beat them up if they hurt 'England and Scotland' and wandered around blindly.

"I give up, let's jus' git the edjit his damn glasses…."

"What made you change your mind?" America walked into the dining room table. Scotland raised his eyebrows as he continued try walking around, banging into more things, knocking over a chair.

"Ye need tah ask?" England shook his head.

"America."

"England? Is that you? Are you safe? Where are the bad guys?"

"You managed to defeat them and I'm fine. You're such an amazing hero." England said sarcastically.

"Really?" America was bad at picking up on sarcasm despite being raised by 'the country of sarcasm and wit'. England rolled his eyes.

"Yes, now stand still before you break my kitchen."

"Sure thing, Artie." Scotland laughed at the nickname.

"Artie?"

"Don't call me 'Artie' you git!" He shouted at America while blushing. Scotland laughed again as England stomped upstairs tugging him behind him.

Soon America was wearing his glasses again and the small group were sitting down to breakfast.

"Why are ya eating barf?"

"It's porridge."

"And it's gud fer ye."

"But dude, it looks exactly like someone just vomited it up."

"America! I'm trying to eat."

"I'm just saying it looks like someone spewed on your plates." Scotland was ignoring America now, deciding that the younger blonde wasn't worth his time. However, England was just on the verge of going in 'my cooking isn't that bad' rant when a low throttle distracted him.

"What the devil is that?" Scotland lifted his head from his bowl of porridge, recognising the strange sound.

"Hmmm… Jus' a wee present…" England paled.

"Am I going to regret this 'gift'?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"Dee ye regret calling meh a 'porridge wog'?" England paused and became paler as he thought of all possible meanings of that question. America was looking out of the window, into England's driveway.

"Hey Artie, there is a dude under your car!"

"What?" England stood up, pulling at the handcuff so that Scotland missed his mouth while spooning in the sugary porridge. He swore and wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. England however was too busy staring at the pair of feet sticking out from under his car to notice Scotland.

The red head nation stood up and smirked suddenly, seeing the feet. He leaned over and opened the window. "Oi. Ireland!"

The feet jumped in surprised and a thump rang out followed by a loud. "OW! FUCK!" An auburn mess of hair appeared with an angry face, a red mark on the forehead and smudges of motor oil on it.

"Hey Alba! Dinnae call oot like tha'!"

"Aye." The head disappeared again. England blinked in shock before screaming out.

"IRELAND! What the fuck are you doing to my car, you bloody wanker!" A middle finger shot out from under the car and England turned red faced.

"Dude! You should see this!"

"Yes I know! My bloody brother is under my car!"

"No. There is some guy ripping up your yard with a motor bike."

"WHAT?"

The two brothers rushed to the other window, just in time to see a figure dressed in black with a black helmet on a huge motorbike tear through a patch of white roses. It skidded and chunks of roses and grass sprayed against the wall of the house and the window. England stared in horror and absolute shock at the battle ground that was once his beautiful front garden. The grass had huge muddy streaks from where the heavy wheels of the bike had drilled into the ground, most of the flowers were dead and there was a gaping hole in the fence from where the motorcycle had crashed through it.

The biker was in the middle of making a wide doughnut with the rear tire when he saw the watching nations. He stop revving but kept the engine on as he removed his helmet. A grinning North Ireland waved enthusically at them.

"Hey Alba! Hey America!" America waved back.

"Yo! What's up?"

"Just having some fun by destroying Iggy's garden!" He smiled happily. America began to laugh.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY GARDEN? WHY?" Rather than answering, North Ireland replied by holding up two well chosen fingers at England. "WHAT WAS THAT?" Scotland was laughing too now.

England looked like a vein was going to pop. He charged towards the door, dragging a laughing Scotland behind him and followed by America. He opened the door angrily, just to see Ireland crawl out from under his car. The man ran and hopped onto the back of the bike. England tried to chase after them but Scotland held him back. The motor cycle crashed through the fence, leaving another hole. America and Scotland were both laughing now.

"SHUT UP YOU TWO!" They just laughed harder now. The English man's face was just so hilarious. England crossed his arms angrily.

"Ye still git Wales tah gah." England stopped suddenly, realising that maybe Scotland had something to do with the Irish men who had just destroyed his garden and potentially.

"Wait! Wh~"

_Thud! _

A white bird flew into the back of the blonde's head. There was a small silence.

"Whoa! Dude! England just totally got hit by a bird." America buzzed excitably, waving his arms and pointing. The white bird hopped off and landed on Scotland's shoulder. Scotland gave it a gentle scratch on the back of its head and it cooed happily in return.

"Who's a gud lassie? Who is? You are."

"Is that your bird, dude?"

"Aye. Her name's Eithne."

"Eiffni?"

"Eithne. It's an auld Pictish name fer meh beautiful Pictish Princess."

"Huh? Really? Picturist?"

"Scotland! Keep that bloody bird away from me!"

"Dinnae be cruel. She flew all tha way from Wales with a wee note fer ye." He removed a piece of paper from her leg and handed it to England. It had 'curse' written on the front of it.

"Dammit…." He turned to Scotland angrily. "What the fuck did you do?" Scotland held up his phone screen to England's face. England read the text and scowled. It was a recount of all the insults that America had said that England called his brothers….

That would explain the aggressive actions towards the blonde. "So what's your revenge?" He asked, knowing that it was coming.

"This text message, their revenge and yer reaction. Yer face was priceless." England glared at him and Scotland smirked evilly. "Ain't ye gonnae open tha'?"

England sighed. Ignoring curses was usually worse than the actual curse itself. He opened it cautiously and scowled heavily as a mini thunder storm swirled out of the letter and enveloped the space above his head. It began raining heavily. His own personal rain cloud... Great... England looked slightly demented as he glared, soaking wet, at his older brother who was grinning ear to ear.

"Dinnae be so dour." He joked. The red head was only getting wet from his elbow to his hand on the side that was handcuffed to England.

The blonde began trying to beat the air viciously above his head to disperse the rain shower but it only got stronger. England jolted as a mini weak bolt of lightning struck his hand. America was staring at it in amazement.

"Yer only making it angry." Scotland batted it away gently and it left easily. "See."

"Whoa dude! What was that? I bet it was aliens! Tonny has a machine that controls the weather! He wouldn't let me use it though after that tornado thingy happened….."

"Tonny?" America ignored him, already distracted with something else. England was busy trying to wring out his PJs so when they went back inside, he wouldn't trail water through his home.

Later that day and both brothers were on the edge of losing it. They had been stuck inside all day, beside each other and with America who insisted on watching cheesy American films about heroes, which he talked through so they couldn't even watch the film.

"So are you still going to the World meeting tomorrow?"

"Whit? There's a fucking meeting tomorrow?"

"Ugh! I had forgotten and it's in Frog's capital as well!"

"Geez! Let's jus' skip it."

"No. I have to represent our country or else America will suggest something stupid like alien proof buildings."

"Hey dude! Aliens are real! A lot more realer than your imaginary friends!"

"Fairies are real and use your grammar! You're a disgrace to the Queen's language!" England just about shouted. America snorted in disbelief and grinned.

"It's okay dude. You're just senile."

"Belt up!"

"Shut it! We're nae gonnae gah tah some damn world meeting!"

"We have to!"

"Nee! Jus' git Wales tah ga!"

"Whales? Where!"

"Gawd! He's a freakin' edjiit!"

"We are going to that meeting!" The two began to shout at each other for a while with America interjecting occasionally. After a while the two made a deal and turned on America.

"I'll bloody gah if blondie doesnae stay tha night agen!"

"Fine! America, can you go home please?"

"Awww… Come one Iggy. Just one more night!"

"Shoo ye bassa!"

"Just leave America!"

"But I want to stay." America pouted.

"GER OOT!"

The two weren't really angry at each other or even America who was making their lives more difficult at the moment, they were angry at the situation with the handcuffs. They could only cope being so close for so long until the tension became too much for them to handle. It was just unfortunate that America had been there to take their feelings.

Long story short, after yelling at the startled blonde who was unsure at why the British brother were so loud and angry, the two kicked him out. It was unfair for America but Scotland didn't care and England wouldn't feel guilty until later.

America laughed anyway. He found the whole thing funny and didn't mind being yelled at by England. It was common for him.

**(A/N - I got a high demand for Fluff so I wrote a bunch of storys but I'm not going to publish them until I finish this story and this story is meant to be a humour story. I have writer's block on this story too so it feels like I'm having to force it out a little...**

**Eithne is very important by the way. Her importance will be revealed later but not in this story. Her name can Pictish, Irish or Gaelic.**

**Review please! There are only 3 chapters left for this story so hold on!)**


	29. Story 7 Chapter 6

**DAY 5**

The day started with a bang…

then a crunch….

then a splat…

To be more precise, the day started with England's car's engine flying 6 feet into the air before landing on its roof, setting the air bags off which were filled with chocolate syrup. Obviously this was not a normal or regular thing for his car or him.

Or anyone really….

England had forgotten that the older Irish man had been sabotaging his car the previous day so almost fainted when the engine nearly crushed him. The sudden explosion of mysterious, brown sticky stuff coating the inside of his car only made his shock worst.

It took one red head, holding his up so he didn't flop to the ground in despair, to remind him that they had to go to a meeting today so they didn't have time to fix the car or attack Ireland. The fae had been kind enough to make England's garden look mostly normal again by re-growing the grass and some of the flower beds too.

Luckily, they managed to catch a train to Paris and his brother didn't bother talking to him much, except to mock him for his car's misfortune, preferring to ignore the blonde. He was happy that Scotland kept to his promise about going to the world meeting though it soon ended badly.

It took exactly a total of eight minutes 51 seconds, a suspicious American, one incestuous kiss, a misfired punch and Italy crying to get them both kicked out of the meeting.

_Shortly after arriving and explaining their problem a couple dozen times, America jumped up to them. _

"_Hey dudes! You still handcuffed?"_

"_Whit dee ye think?" America laughed._

"_How did you two get stuck like this, aru?" China questioned. _

_America stopped suddenly. He knew that they were handcuffed together but he never thought about how it happened. His phone call with England earlier flashed through his mind along with his earlier assumption. His head snapped to Scotland and he glared intensely at the red head._

_Scotland raised an eyebrow at the reaction. He smirked when he remembered the start of America's visit and his false presumptions about the two. He hated meetings and rather have fun manipulating the blonde so a plan to exploit America's jealousy. _

_England began his explanation of how they actually had little memory of the event. "Actually, we don'~ Ah!" He gave a rather high squeak when the red head suddenly blew gently in his ear. _

"_Scotland! What a~" He froze when he felt a gentle whisper._

"_Play along…" Scotland glanced at America before looking at China. He smirked. "Whit dee ye think?" He then winked at America who suddenly turned red face. _

_England shook his head in disbelief. His brother was suggesting that he… with England… using handcuffs… He was never going to live this down! _

_Scotland pointed to a bruise on England's neck from one of their previous physical fights, earlier in the week. "See. A hickey." _

"_America! This is not what it look li~!"_

_Several gasps, whistles, fangirl screams, camera flashes and 'wow's went off as Scotland pressed his lips quickly to England's._

_It was a very chaste peck that barely lasted a second. Many were not even sure if their lips touched at all. __**(A/N - They did by the way…)**_

_England was completely crimson and froze in shock. Everyone was staring at England, waiting for a reaction but nothing happened. France leaned over and waved a hand in front of his eyes. _

"_I think tu broke 'im, L'Ecosse…" He whispered. "Did tu know 'e would act like zis?"_

"_Nee… I expected him to yell or sumthing…" _

"_Moi too." _

"_It was only an old bruise and a wee joke kis~" _

_Scotland ducked suddenly, pulling France down too, so they both avoided a furious punch from America._

"_I KNEW IT, DUDE! You totally took advantage of your own brother!" _

_The punch may have missed the red head but a certain Italian was just standing behind them. America tried to pull the fist back but it still tapped Italy's arm ever so slightly. The brown haired man suddenly screamed and gripped his arm, totally over-reacting. _

"_GERMANY! GERMANY! HELP ME!~ OH GERMANY" _

"_Oh crap…"_

"_Shite…"_

"_Ballocks…" _

_Eight minutes 51 seconds was all it took for them to be kicked out. _

America wasn't kicked out though due to the fact, he was the only one who could represent the USA but since Wales could replace the brothers…

"I can't believe you did that!"

"Why? It jus' happened."

"You fucking wanker! Wanker! Wanker! WANKER!"

"Ye sound like a wee brat so shut it and grow up."

"YOU BLOODY KISSED ME YOU GIT!"

"I ken." Scotland sounded calm.

"Why must you always try to harass me?" England moaned loudly.

"Actually I was trying tae 'harass' the wee bampot bairn by makin' him jealous. Ye just git in tha way."

"I can't believe my brother kissed me…"

"It was a quick peck, ye gurne. Git ova it!" Scotland snapped.

"Now everyone will think we are some sort of kinky incestuous sex freaks! I mean look at the bloody handcuffs! They scream sex accident!" Scotland remained silent, examining the silver chain.

"Scotland? Are you listening to me?"

"Aye… Did ye see tha bampot's face? He's really jealous." He sounded slightly smug but a little pissed off too.

"Sorry! I was too busy being in shock!"

"Yer over-reacting."

"You'r under-reacting! Stop sounding so bloody calm! God I just want to die!"

"That would fix tha handcuff problem." The red head mused out loud, like he was really thinking about it.

"Scotland!" England sounded exasperated. "This is completely your fault! Now we have to sit in this room, until the meeting is finished and they unlock the fucking door!"

"I wasnae the one who stole magical handcuffs then strapped mehself tae me brother."

"How do you know it was me?"

"Wasnae meh."

"You don't know that! You have no memory either!"

"I'm nae this stupid."

"UGH!"

"Ye ken, we could jus' break doon tha door."

"NO! We are in enough trouble already!"

"Fair enuff."

There was a silence. England had the urge to pace but was confined by the length of the chain. Scotland was just sitting in a chair, leaning his chin on his free hand. England was standing by a chair but choosing not to sit down. He let out a heavy breath.

"At least it can't get worst…" Scotland was suddenly glaring at him. England flinched at the sudden intensity of the emotion.

"Neva say 'At least it cannae git worst'… It's always gits worst afta tha'!" He snapped. England scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"That's just an old supersti~"

There as a loud crack and suddenly a tall man was standing in front of them. A Seelie Fairy.

The meeting had mainly continued as normal. As normal a group of arguing full grown immortal countries plus Prussia could be. However a loud crack from one room over distracted the meeting.

It had come from the room that Scotland and England had just been confined to, to work out their differences and kept Scotland away from England. Germany went to check up on them. You know – just in case…

The door was intact, as was the lock, and so was the entire inside of the room and the only window. In fact everything was in place in the room apart from two things. The brothers.

"Told ye! I fuckin' told ye!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Yer sorry? YER BLOODY SORRY?"

The two were still handcuffed and locked in a room. Unfortunately it was a different room. Even more unfortunate though was the fact they weren't even on 'Earth' any more. They were in a strange place barely connected to the mortal realm. This place was called to humans 'Fairy World' but currently Scotland and England were calling it 'Hell'.

"I told ye! It's bloody bad luck tae say 'At least it cannae git worst.'!"

"Do you know why we were court summoned?"

Scotland tilted his head to the side in mock confusion and pulled out a mocking sarcastic tone. "Hmmm…. I dinnae ken…. Maybe it's tha pair of _stolen_ handcuffs that we're wearing!"

"Well… You don't have to be so rude."

Scotland glared down at him murderously and looked like he was just about to take a step forward to punch him when light flooded the room from the door way. The same tall man who had delivered the invitation and opened a door to the strange and legendary Fairy World them here from their previous room stood in the door way. He had a serious face.

"Queen Gyre Carlin wishes to see you both now."

**(A/N – Someone (I can't remember who so I'm sorry!) requested a kiss. Between Scotland and England. Although I do like the pairing, this is meant to be a more brotherly fanfic. So the kiss was minor.**

**I'm not sure if incest is an M but this is just on the border of incest so I say it doesn't count. It was just a peck.**

**I know Scotland might seem a little OOC but that's mainly because he is acting. He's hinting at something M rated between him and England.**

**On another note, he doesn't see or even think of England in that what so ever. He only sees him as a little brother. (I think the ScoEng pairing is slightly crack because it's incest but I quite like it along with the ScoFra. In my head canon, he tops in both. Scotland is the only person that France has ever let topped him. Though he does try to top Scotland, it never works…)**

**They were both wearing iron and steel so they were not kidnapped or spirited away. They were given a choice to go or not. Unfortunately it was an invitation from the Queen so it would have been unwise not to accept the offer. They entered at their own free will, knowing the consequences.**

**Another fun fact – Scotland has to always wear his ear rings. Because his body is super fast at healing if he takes out his ear ring for more than a few hours, the hole closes up. He keeps having to get them re-pierced. The number of holes therefore keep changing. He only had one piercing on his left ear before the drinking game with the Bad Touch Trio but then he had two. About a year ago, before the drinking game, he had three earrings on that ear and two on the other. Two years before that he had none on his left ear.**

**He always has at least one pierced on the right. Only the pierced hole on the right doesn't close up but that one is special… (will explain later but it is the same reason why the scars on his back don't heal – Wounds inflicted on a country's physical human body heal quickly, Wounds inflicted on their culture or land can leave a scar.) **

**I LOVE MY REVIEWERS! *Glomps!* **

**Review Please!)**


	30. Story 7 Chapter 7

**DAY 6**

The meeting had continued as normal when Germany returned. He had decided not to mention the disappearance of the two British countries publicly yet as it could be a simple misunderstanding. Just in case though he had told Wales.

The next day and they were still missing. Though Wales appeared unconcerned…

In the Fairy World though, after the brothers had been escorted to a court room where England had been accused of stealing the handcuffs. However before the trial officially started, Scotland requested 24 hours to prepare a defence.

After some long bartering, Gyre Carlin finally agreed in exchange that they both stay in Fairy World, confined to their room, until the end of the trial.

It was an inconvenience and potentially dangerous.

At this moment in time though, Scotland was gently twisting one of the small silver links on the chain connecting the hand cuffs between two slim fingers. He was staring off absently into the air, leaning on his palm, his elbows resting on a table.

It was a complete one-eighty from his earlier angrier mood.

The table he was leaning on was a unique thing. Since any form of iron was banned in Fairy World because of its poisonous effect on the fae, it was made by slotting wood together so it supported itself. On the table, apart from Scotland's elbows was a long scroll rolled out the entire length of the table, with one side over the edge of the table and along the floor.

England also sat at the table, on his left, sharing the bench that was actually made of several small trees twisting together. Unlike his unusually calm older brother, England was frantically darting over the scroll, trying to understand the strange language on it.

It didn't make sense at all.

He couldn't even understand the shapes or find any sort of pattern that even indicated that he was in fact reading a real language, not just gibberish-like doodles.

He was panicking.

A trial that could decide his fate was in a matter of minutes. His brother was being useless. Basically after asking for time to make a defence and a copy of the fae laws, he just lost all motivation. He lazed around, watching the blonde throw himself desperately into the scroll, trying to decipher it.

He had asked earlier if Scotland was going to defend himself, if not the blond, at least and he replied rather snappily, "I dinnae take tha handcuffs so I git meh defence. Plus I wasnae tha one that was accused."

Finally the blonde dropped his head on the desk.

"It's useless! I don't understand the stupid writing here!" He leaned on his arms in defeat.

"Tha's pathetic…" England turned his head to look up at the red head was looking down at him blankly. England just sighed slightly. "Yer reading tha wrong part tae..."

"I don't understand Gaelic." He said huffily.

"That's gud… 'cause this annae Gaelic."

"What?"

"It's the ancient language of the fairies and pixies." The perplexed face demanded a more detailed answer.

"Pictish, ye eejit."

"What?"

Scotland rolled his eyes and said something in a strange language before translating it into English for England.

"Those who wish war cannot make war unless commanded by the Queen. Only the royal of blood and position can call for battle and arm their forces. If those who are called for battle but do not wish war shall not refuse if they have sworn fealty as it is in the oath. For those who had not sworn such an allegiance, they are free to act as they wish in the right of the solitary fae. This does not include the daily bloodshed, conflicts and chaos for the needs of the darker fae."

England stared at the paper.

"Is that what this says?" He asked in amazement.

"Aye. Yer tha first English man ta hear tha language in ova a 1000 years." England blinked at the scroll as if trying to see the words that Scotland had spoken.

"Is that a law? What does it mean?"

"Only Queen Carlin Gyre and Queen Maeve canne start an official war between the courts. If yer in one court, yer forced tah take part in tha war oor die. Solitary fairies can refuse tha royalty withoot an official punishment but I dinnae recommend it…. If a Queen doesnae get her way, she usually jus' kills tha fairy responsible. Solitary fairies dinnae belong ta anae court so can be killed oor harmed freely withoot consequences. That's why only tha strongest fairies can even think aboot being solitary and most only remain so fer a short time… Some fairies need blood ta survive so wee fights are allowed… and sometimes encouraged…."

By the end of his detailed description, he was staring at the ceiling again.

"Huh." He said in surprise. "Why would there be a war?"

"The wee-er beings are like pawns. The Queens dinnae mind whit happen tae them so minor fights are allowed ta sustain certain creatures and power balances. However if a higher or beloved person was taken oor purposely harmed oor killed then a war might start. Fairies are highly possessive of their possessions."

"Higher or beloved…" It wasn't a question but Scotland answered anyway.

"Aye…. Like ye…"

Now that caught England completely off guard.

"What?"

Scotland looked bemused. "Yer part of tha Seelie court. Ye cannae remember swearing fealty?"

England nodded. "Of course I can! But I'm not a fae."

"I neva sed it had ta be a fairy to be taken to start a war. Ye, Wales, Ireland and North Ireland are Britannia's children and automatically placed on high authority within tha Seelie court." Scotland smirked. "Jus' be carefully nae ta git beaten up by some Unseelie court fae and start some stupid war." He added teasingly.

England rolled his eyes and decided to change the discussion back to the trial.

"Where is the part about theft?" Scotland shrugged.

"There are a lotta laws and the scroll is long and many of the laws ainnae actually written down. Unlike humans who can change their laws freely ta match the time and people, the laws of tha fae are ingrained into their very being. They physically cannot change any law. They usually ken most of the rules off tha top of their head. They are only written down for record and it's in Pictish to stop others from learning their weaknesses and strengths."

England sighed huffily again. "Can you read it and find out."

"Aye but dinnae want tae." England glared moodily at him. "Fine… I'll call Wales then…" Scotland snorted.

"Only two non-fae beings know Pictish including meh and tha otha one isnae Wales."

"Who then?"

England needed help and he was desperate enough to ask anyone. A punishment from the fairies would be lethal, painful and last a long time even for him. Their punishments were designed for immortals after all, because of their long lives.

"Eithne." It took a moment for England to register the name.

"Your bloody bird?" England screeched a little before calming down and bringing his voice back under control.

"Aye."

"She's a fucking dove! She can't help me!"

"Plus she cannae speak English…"

"She's still a bird!"

"Not always…" Scotland replied quietly. His bright green eyes were unfocused as he stared into his own past, presumably his shared one with Eithne.

England stopped and stared at his brother a long time before whispering in return. "I'm sorry…" He whispered in return.

"Nee yer fault." England had only witnessed a small moment of their united past during his pirating years when he discovered the immortal dove's origin.

**(A/N – This isn't the end but this is kinda important so I'm pausing the story to say this.**

**I know that this is horribly teasing, saying that there is a sub-plot to the bird but not telling it. I will post a story of Eithne's origin.**

**Now some of you may be wondering 'Why the hell did you give Scotland's white messenger bird a back ground story?'**

**The answer is simple. Cause Scotland past is too damn happy. *Sarcasm* **

**I'm kidding. I have made his past horrible enough without this tragic little story. **

**(I still have to write about Rome and Ancient Saxony and how Britannia died and what her last wish was from story 1 etc. too… Sorry Iain – I'm a sucker for heart breaking back grounds plus it would explain your bad attitude at times. And sorry readers – my 'to be written' list is getting longer and longer and I have minor writer's block. Thanks for being patient with me.) **

**The main reason why is because it is Scotland's **_**only**_** mention in the anime. Anyway, since the bird had the privilege to represent Scotland in the anime, I think it deserves a story better than just being a boring white bird. That bird is basically Scotland in the anime so it gets a cool but very sad back ground story.**

**If you disagree, tough. I'm Scottish so I don't really care if you think it's stupid. Deal with it. Now some of you may be asking 'Why not tell us the story now?' I have thought of it but it is a little long and very sad so I think it also deserves sometime better than a brief recap in this story. It WILL be in the pirate story or this fantasy/horror that I WILL write soon-ish. Be patient please. **

**Now back to the story.)**

"Dinnae worry…" He blinked himself out of his day dream. "I'll figure something oot. I wonnae let ye git punished."

He sounded confident and England felt strangely comforted. The blonde smiled at his brother. It felt odd but he liked it. He ran his hand over the bumpy wooden which felt like fine silk, peering at the strange scroll again.

"So what is your ide~"

The door opened suddenly, reveal the Queen plus her several hand-picked maidens to follow her every command and weigh on her every need. Today she was appearing in her secondary form of an ugly, big ogress, except she wore fine clothes.

She guided to a stop before the table and Scotland stood, tugging England messily to his feet just behind him.

The table and chair sunk into the ground along with the scroll just as a massive throne that appeared made of smooth glinting gold raised up. There were several pillows placed on the rare metal to make it comfortable to sit on. She sat down with ease, moving like a goddess while looking like a monster and stared at the two British men.

The women began to make sure she was comfortable – one held a drink, three of them held three platters of different and unique foods, two lingered on either side ready to fulfil any order. They were all ready to serve.

After a while, she turned to England expectantly who suddenly realised that he was lacking his manners presently in front of his court's queen. **(A/N – His first and foremost loyalty goes to Queen Elizabeth. Queen Gyre Carlin comes second but he would never say this.) **He bowed very low hastily.

"My Queen." He kept his head down, waiting for the order to rise again.

"You may raise your head, England." She said blankly. She turned to the red head now. Scotland bowed from the waist in a Victorian like manner.

"Queen Gyre Carlin." He stated formally but behind his ceremonial tone, there was a slightly friendly, playful and personal tone. It seemed mocking that he had addressed her so teasingly, despite the bow. He straightened his back, smirking.

The Queen smiled slightly looking slightly bemused and irritated.

"Quit with the formalities Scotland. Your false bow is unwanted." She said absently.

"I was only being polite. If you would like, I would gladly bow again fer yer entertainment." He said, this time being openly cheeky. She glared at him before laughing it off. It sounded tense.

"You remind me so very much of your mother – stubborn, head strong and gutsy."

"I'll take tha' as a compliment."

"As you wish."

England stared in amazement. His brother was conversing with the fairy queen of the Seelie court freely. The most powerful fairy who was known for her cold, demeaning personality and her intolerance of disrespect and was conducting his trial.

And his brother had made her the butt of his joke…

lovely…

At least she didn't decide to kill him.

Or England.

Yet.

He knew if it had been anyone else, they would have been killed for being disrespectful to the Queen. But why was Scotland spared, he wondered. Her expression hardened again.

"To business. England you have been accused of theft of a pair of specially hand crafted hand cuffs designed and made for Queen Gyre Carlin. How do you plead?"

"Objection."

Queen Gyre Carlin, England and the half a dozen maidens turned to the speaker. The queen kept her cool, constant face but there was a slight tension in her powerful aura. The defiant man continued.

"Both me brother and meh haff nae memory. It's unfair."

"Hmmm… You are right… We will just have to see the events for ourselves then." She snapped her fingers and a mirror grew from the ground.

It showed an image.

It was his house. It was dark. It was night and a small winged man was carrying a pair of handcuffs. It was Gofannon, the black smith who made them.

Seconds later, England stumbled into his house drunk and with France and the fairy flew off in fear, dropping the silver handcuffs.

The blonde's eyes widened and he turned a deep crimson as he saw himself disgrace himself openly by screaming strange things.

"Scotland? Is this…"

"It's whit happened one week agah befoore we git handcuffed."

"That would explain why Gofannon knew that we had them… He had left them there by accident."

"Aye. He must haff known where they were. They were probably never stolen or lost."

The Queen had a blank expression as the image continued.

France suddenly pushed England up against the wall. There was some frantic kissing before a before Scotland appeared in jeans, t-shirt and wearing shoes and socks. He yanked France back from the wall and gave him a punch to the stomach.

England crumpled to the ground in a drunken mess. Scotland was threatening France when suddenly England sat up and clipped the hand cuff onto Scotland's left hand. The red head looked down in surprise as England pulled himself to his feet, clipping the other hand cuff to his right hand.

He yelled something at the blonde who yelled something back. England suddenly pushed Scotland back. The red head barely regained his balance but the blonde continued forward as he lost his balance, knocking Scotland back again. The two fell together, Scotland hitting his head on a table. The two became still.

France however panicked openly. He tore off Scotland t-shirt and tried using it to stop the freely bleeding head wound. It was soon useless. France suddenly headed for the door, obviously fearing that his friend might wake up soon and he would get hit more. He grabbed the hand cuff key, the bloody t-shirt and stole Scotland's shoes and socks before running off.

The two men stared at it with open mouths.

"Fuckin'~"

"~hell…."

The image ended suddenly. The queen pondered a little before nodding her head.

"I have found my verdict. England is declared innocent as the item in question was never stolen. It was the foolishness of the owner and a lie that led to this situation. He is the one at fault and will be punished accordingly."

"Are you really going to punish him, my queen?" England asked, politely of course.

"Yes. I do not accept liars in my court, son of Britannia."

England wanted to disagree badly. He tried to hold back against his fairy queen. "B-But…"

Scotland leaned down and whispered quickly. "He sed tah us that he had lost it a few hundred years agah. He sed that 'cause he was scared that he would be blamed and he was correct. He still lied which is an offense fer fae." England still looked worried. "Dinnae worry. He's one of tha fae's best blacksmiths. She cannae break his body or spirit without risking losing a valuble asset. He will be forced ta dee a task like made a 100 magical swords or something along those lines."

England nodded stiffly. He felt a little better but he still worried. The Welsh black smith seemed proud and arrogant but also kind.

Despite reigning over the good court, the queen could still be very cruel and his punishment might not be light.

"The trial is over. You are free to go England. However… Scotland I wish for you to stay."

"Nee thanks."

"It wasn't an offer."

"I though sa. Yer real sleekit."

She smiled. "If I wasn't I wouldn't have charmed so many men or be a fae queen."

"You can't just take my brother, my queen."

"Actually she canne."

"Solitary beings have little rights and no protection. They are free to all to be picked off or picked up if one wishes."

"The freedom in return is much betta if ye ask meh. And ye ken meh, I always chose total freedom if I canne."

"You are a solitary?" Scotland nodded before grinning widely.

"Aye. Free tah come and leave as I will." Scotland faced the queen confidently, no longer bothering to be polite or gracious. The ogress's eyes widened slightly. "Well cheers. Trial's ova and I need ta beat up a French mannie."

"GRAB HIM!" She yelled in command.

The females ran towards Scotland. He suddenly pulled England towards him, holding the blonde to his chest tightly. England opened his mouth to protest, blushing heavily, but had nothing to say. He felt the air around him suddenly buzz with energy. He saw a bright light and he soon realised it was being emitted from Scotland.

"Ta." He half turned his head to his fairy queen, to see her fade away to be replaced by a window.

"We are back where we started?" England said surprised. Scotland released him like hot lead when he spoke.

"What day is it?"

"Date?"

"Sometimes time is a tad tricky in tha faery world. The date might be slightly different oor it might not." England found a desk calendar on the table.

"It's the morning of last day of the meeting."

"Gud."

Scotland sounded tired but also angry and ready to fight. That anger at France he had hidden in front of the Queen was now out in the open. It was the same with England.

"France still has that key. He's gonnae pay fer leaving us like this!"

"For once, I completely agree with you!"

"Truce?"

"Truce!"

**(A/N - The brothers are finally working together! It only took one week of being handcuffed together, several fights and bouts of revenge, one fairy 'kidnapping', a trial for theft, a daring escape, some magic and a final dramatic truth revealed. Not too much then… *sarcasm***

**A reminder of who Gyre Carlin is.**

**Gyre Carlin is the queen of all the fairies in Scotland. Apparently she is like a giant ogress or a hag. She can appear as a beautiful person though. Her name means 'greedy old woman' and she can quite cruel and demeaning when provoked. She is also meant to be sly and cunning and able to charm men (human or mythical) to do her bidding. She is powerful and rules over fairies, elfs, nymphs, witches, sorceresses who ride behind her when she goes riding around the Highlands. She rides around alot on magical steeds. She is indifferent to All Hallows Eve (Halloween) and doesn't fear the evil spirits. She is sometimes thought as the mother witch.**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	31. Story 7 Chapter 8

**DAY 7 **

"FROG FACE!"

"FRANCE!"

The two British countries burst through the door of the world meeting.

"England?"

"Scotland?"

"Iggy?"

"Alba?"

"Another England? Ve~"

"There are two Englands, da?"

"Actually… I told everyone at the start… that I was Wales… Not England…"

"THERE YOU ARE FRANCE!"

"GIVE ME THA' KEY, YE TWAT!"

France flinched in fear and stood up. He turned to run but the two men had already caught up with him. They each had a hand on his each of his shoulders.

"Yer not going anae where withoot handing ova tha key!"

"Where is it you slimy frog?"

France gave out a rather girlish squeak when he talked. "Non! I do not know what tu are talking about!"

"Och, really?" He slammed France face first onto the table. He spoke quickly in a loud whisper that sounded like a hiss into France's ear. It was loud enough that the people closest could hear it clearly. "Jus' so ye ken, I haffnae slept tha last two nights and I'm feeling very, very angry. Now where is tha bloody key!"

England flinched a bit. His brother could be terrifying if he wanted to and he did.

"Non. I 'ave no id~"

"LIAR!" The red head yelled into his ear. He pushed France farther into the table so he gasped a little.

England placed his hand on France's head and pushed down on it so it was painfully flat on the table. "Give me the key, Frog!"

"Non! I 'av~"

Scotland rested his knee on France's back and grabbed his arms which were moving around in panic. He pulled them up in the opposite direction from the table.

"Hurry France oor I'll break yer spine." He spoke calmly now. France whimpered a bit and tried to sound innocent.

"Tu wouldn't break ton best friends spine, would tu mon amis?"

The red head smirked a little before pulling on the arms more. France gasped in pain and began screaming.

"NON! NON! NON! Don't break my back please!"

England lifted France's head roughly by his hair.

"Where is it!" He hissed.

Scotland and England weren't being careful or gentle with France. They didn't need to be. Immortal countries were built sturdy, even France.

"What handcuff keys?"

"Hah! We never said handcuffs keys, you bloody frog!"

"Ahhh!" France gave out a small scream.

It was now that Germany finally decided to intervene.

"Vhat are you doing doing?"

England tuned to him and calmly spoke. "We will only be a few more minutes old chap. If you will just allow us a little more time."

Germany glanced at France who was trying to escape but Scotland just pulled his arms more until it cracked loudly. He could tell that it would break if Scotland pulled anymore.

"Very vell." He nodded. "3 minutes or else!" He snapped the order.

Scotland nodded. "Hurry up France. 'Cause in three minutes, yer spine's gonnae be tied in a knot." France shook his head for no and seemed to be refusing to speak all together now. The brothers glanced at each other, thinking about how to speed things up.

Suddenly England leaned down and whispered. "Hey frog face…. You know women don't like men with wonky backs…"

France's eyes widened. Scotland did a wide smirk.

"Aye. Nae many lassies gah fer men with a crooked spine. Are ye fine with haffing nae moore sex." France gulped slightly.

"Five seconds France 'til I snap yer back."

"I thought I 'ad three minutes!"

"5"

"Seriously L'Ecosse. Tu are surely joking."

"4"

"Tu are kidding right! Right?"

"3"

"Angleterre! Stop ton frère!"

"2"

"The only thing I regret about this frog face, is the fact I'm not going to be the one to break you in two."

"1"

"I GIVE UP! IT'S IN MY POCKET! MY POCKET! I'M SORRY!"

The two British brothers grinned at each other.

France felt his arms become loose as the red head dropped them. However before he could sigh in relief, he was flipped onto his back. He felt two pairs of invading hands search through his pockets. They stopped suddenly and he looked up to his rival and best friend unlock the silver handcuffs. They smiled at each other.

"Braw lie."

"We wouldn't have gotten the key back if you didn't threaten him like that."

"Tu two are working together quite well now, non?"

The two glared at him. France gulped slightly.

"I was just saying that you deux must 'ave sorted out ton differences so this was a positive experience in the end so you should thank me."

The two stared at him for a while. Finally Scotland spoke while tapping England on the side of his head with his knuckle.

"Och aye. Cheers fer leaving meh strapped tae this eejit fer a week."

"Oi! What does that mean wanker?" England batted Scotland's hand away with a little more strength than what was necessary.

Scotland flicked England on the back of the head hard. "Who was tha git ta start this by clipping us together in tha first place!"

"I was drunk! That's something you should know well, you drunken bastard!" England pressed a finger into Scotland's chest as if emphasising a point.

"At least I can hold meh liquer, ye pansy! I seen wee lassies with a higher alcohol tolerance."

"Well, at lea~"

Before England could farther insult Scotland, Germany spoke up.

"Three minutes is up!"

The two looked in surprise at Germany, suddenly remembering that the rest of the world was still in the world. Scotland grabbed France, yanked him off his feet and carried him out of the door.

"I'm jus' taking him fer a 'friendly' talk. He'll be back in a minute."

He slammed the door on his way out, leaving every single country wondering what had just happened in only the last five minutes.

However outside in the hall way, Scotland had France pinned up against the wall.

"Don't hit moi!"

"Listen here France, ye dinnae want ta git hit? So yer gonnae pay back this last boggin' week by cooking all of me meals. Any problems?"

"Ah... Non, Non."

Scotland released France and stepped away to show that he was done hurting France…

for now…

"Gud… Why did ye take tha key?"

"I panicked and was worry that you would hurt me more."

"Now whit dee ye think?"

"Ummm… Zat was a bad idea?"

"Bravo… Now one last question…" France's ears perked up. "Why tha bloody heel did ye steal meh shoes and socks?"

"Oh…" France fidgeted a little. "I thought zat if tu didn't 'ave shoes and socks, tu wouldn't follow moi after tu woke up…."

Scotland stared at his friend blankly.

"Yer a eejit…"

"Oui…" They both sighed.

"Right, ye cann gah back now."

"Oui… Can I get a kiss better since tu were too rough?"

"Aye fine." France honestly looked surprised.

"Really?"

"Aye." Scotland suddenly head butted the blond, giving him a black eye.

"OW!"

"One Glasgow kiss. How are ye feeling now?"

"Ow…." Scotland smirked a little before France managed to steal his lips. The kiss lasted a long time and when France backed away, his bottom lip was bleeding.

"L'Ecosse! Tu bit me!"

"Weel, ye stole me shoes." France grinned happily.

"Can we do zat again?"

"Nee and remember yer cooking me meals fer meh."

"Oui, oui. I to return to the meeting now."

"See ya." Scotland left quickly. France watched his friend leave with a smirk. He hadn't been beaten up like he thought he would be.

"Maybe L'Ecosse enjoyed this time with his frère more than he would admit. Ohonhonhonhon."

France re-entered the room, grinning from ear to ear. The meeting returned to mostly normal with England back in his place and Wales… Actually no one paid much attention to Wales so no one was sure where he went…

**(A/N – IT IS FINISHED! FINISHED! FINISHED! FINISHED! Horrah! Thank you for being so, so, so patient!**

**As promised, now that this story is done I will post the next story.**

**And I will finish Story 8! Maybe not soon but eventually!**

**Glasgow kiss – a head butt from your forehead to the victim's nose area. (Only Scottish people could take a kiss and make it violent.)**

**This is done. If you have any questions, just ask.**

**Review as well please.)**


	32. Story 8 Chapter 1

**The Rare and Unusual Red Head**

Russia rarely saw the country.

Most people didn't.

When he did appear, he would soon disappear but every second that he was there, he was somehow the centre of attention.

Not in the obnoxious way like that idiot America was who always called him a 'commie' despite the blonde not knowing what communism is and that Russia hadn't been one since 1991.

Even at the world meeting where every country was obliged to go to, he rarely was there. He only appeared once, maybe twice a year.

Russia was curious about the country.

He was unique. His blood red hair was unusual and even though he seemed somehow related to that bossy England, he was completely different from him.

He looked forward to his visits. Sometimes he was by his self, sometimes he had an auburn man who looked like another country that came to the meetings and/or a blonde who was easily mistaken for England. These doppelgangers were interesting but not as interesting as him.

His visits always brought drama and chaos to an otherwise boring and pointless meeting. His visits have been increasing recently too. So far this year, he had visited a total of 3 times this year. The most amount of times he had seen him visit in a short time.

The first time this year, it seemed like he was forcefully dragged along by England. They had argued and yelled at each other a lot. His knuckle had been in a brace at the time and it was also the time when America had a broken nose too.

Russia smiled every time he thought of America being beaten up like that with an ugly nose cast and black eyes.

The red head even had the guts to publically brag over the microphone at the meeting that he had beaten up America while making it sound like an apology so that no one could complain or start a war. America and he obviously didn't like each other.

The second time was to pick up France, Spain and Prussia for what sounded like the beginning of what was going to be a wild drinking contest. He seemed to be particularly close friends with France. Any time he wasn't with England, he was with France. He had no idea why though.

The third time was only last week at the three day conference in Paris when both England and the red head arrived, handcuffed together on the first day. They didn't show up on the second day. On the last day however, they suddenly burst in and proceeded to try and strangle France for the key. Apparently he had it the entire time.

After he got the key, the redhead picked up the perverted blonde and took him outside for a 'friendly' talk. The French man returned with a bleeding bottom lip and a black eye. He was grinning though.

Today was his fourth visit and the most unexpected. Usually he came at the start or the end of the meeting and once or twice during the breaks. However, today he burst in half way through England's report on his country's recession.

The blonde didn't have time to react before he was rugby tackled from the side, knocking both nations to the ground. The red head stood up seconds later with the English man balanced on one of his shoulders.

"Got him, Wales!" The startled man blonde began struggling as the blonde and auburn men entered.

"Scotland… I told ye ta be subtle…" The blonde was quiet but evidently annoyed as he scolded the red head.

He just grinned cheekily in reply. "Fer me this is subtle."

The auburn had abandoned both men to hug the other auburn country on the other end of the room, who had stood up in shock at seeing England attacked like that. They looked very similar and it was obvious they were brothers if not twins.

"Ireland! Foos yer doos!"

"NORTH IRELAND! GER OOF! WE ARE IN A MEETING!" He yelled angrily.

Russia didn't really know Ireland all that well. He came to all the meetings, so evidently was an independent country. He always remained at the back of the room, hiding from or avoiding England. He always looked angry and seemed to have a terrible temper. He assumed that they were merely enemies who hated each other or something but now that he looked closely at the angry auburn country, he resembled England too.

So did the cheery, loud auburn hugging him against his will. The red head called over to them.

"North Ireland! Let go of him! We got what we came fer!" North Ireland released him and ran back over excitably to him in obedience.

England's sense had finally caught up with what was going on.

"S-S-Scotland! What the hell are you doing, you fucking wanker!"

"Mind yer coorse language." He struggled more.

"Let go!" His cries and struggles were ignored.

"Wales, ye git it from here?" The blonde, apparently called Wales, nodded. He took England's previous place at the podium. America stood up.

"Wait Dude! Ya just can't kidnap England!"

"Pfft! I'm just burrowing him…" He replied rudely and coldly to the American. The red head exited with North Ireland following him and England slung over his shoulder. The red head was only in the room for a matter of minutes but already the room was in noisy chaos.

America tried to follow them but was stopped by France and Canada. Germany stood up, determined to settle the chaos.

"CALM DOWN!" He turned angrily to Wales.

"Your bruder better have a gut reason for disturbing this vorld meeting!" Wales spoke into the microphone.

"Aye. He doos….I'm sorry 'boot this but I will be taking me wee brother's place fer now…"

"Are you even qualified?" questioned Germany. Wales sighed gently.

"Actually I hav' taken my brother's place many times befoore…." Germany raised an eyebrow sceptically. He obviously didn't believe the blonde. Wales opened England's notebook and began listing dates. Germany was checking his notes.

"These are all dates vhen England has been quiet and vell-behaved?…." Wales nodded.

"I tried ta tell ye but ye just ignored me and mistook me fer England… It really is very annoying…" Germany wrote something down and nodded.

"Very vell. You may continue in your bruder's place, ja."

"Thanks…"

Wales went on continuing the report on the recession in the UK. Part way through, Russia began to forget that this was not England. He just looked too similar. It was only his accent and quiet personality and voice which defined him from the fussy English 'gentleman'.

He waited impatiently for the end of the meeting. He was determined to properly meet the redhead. He could already see himself being close friends with him if he hated both England and America.

**(A/N - Mainly from Russia's point of view. He calls him the red head throughout the whole chapter because he doesn't know Scotland's name. Though Wales and England mention his name, he doesn't actually know if that is his real name or not.**

**Wales takes England's place when England is unable to go to a meeting due to illness or work or personal business. Unfortunatly no one really notices...**

**I managed to mention previous stories in this chapter so some of my stories do link in with each other.  
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**Translation Station!**

**German - **

**Bruder - brother**

**gut - good**

**ja - yes**

**The German accent is fun to attempt to duplicate! **

**Does anyone want me to relist the Scottish accent translations? Are you still understanding him? Just say so and I will put them all down again.**

**Review! This was just as fun as the last story to write! I loved it.)**


	33. Story 8 Chapter 2

**Meeting the Red He~ I mean Scotland! **

As the meeting ended, the red head returned with a pissed off England and a cigarette in his mouth. He was still being carried over his shoulder but now his hands and mouth were bound by silver duck tape. He was kicking violently and trying to scream so much he had gone red in the face.

The auburn man was not here this time.

"Hey Wales. How was tha' meetin'?" The blonde stood up, smiling very rarely seemed to change his expression.

"Nae ta bad..." The red head lifted England off of his shoulders and placed him in a chair.

He grabbed the duck tape. He smiled a little before ripping it off harshly and quickly.

"ARRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH! FUCK!"

"If ye keep howlin' like tha', I'm just gonnae stick it back on."

That shut the blonde up quickly. He glared angrily with a near murderous glare and tears brimming at the edge of his eyes. He had a bright red rectangle across his mouth.

The red head grinned back, obviously enjoying his brother's rage and pain. Russia decided to watch curiously what the man did for a while.

First France sneaked up behind him and slapped his on his ass. He grabbed the French man's arm and gave it a hard squeeze with the hand without the cigarette. The blonde yelped in pain and England laughed at him.

He released the French man's hand easily though. France whined a little and he received a hard pat on the back.

France then said something and they both burst into laughter while England shouted at them again but with a heavy blush.

America, who had been distracted by Japan, heard this and made his way over in a huff. He said something, probably along the lines of heroism and justice. The red head said something in return, leaning on France who looked caught between a grin, a pout and a tired sigh. America puffed out his chest.

The teenage country was almost impossible to agitate but this red head seemed to do it in a few sentences. The red head looked irritated though now. He was probably going to go soon.

Russia stood up quickly. He had decided to talk to the man himself.

"Hello there, da." He smiled widely as he towered over the group. The red head turned around to look at him. He scanned the full height and scale of the massive Russian as he took a deep breath on his cigarette.

He raised his eyebrows in slight surprise and Russia smiled a little wider. He was obviously not used to being shorter than someone.

He noticed the red head scan him scrupulously; his eyes looked over the tall person, taking in every detail of the man. It could easily be mistaken as simple curiosity to other people, but the look in his eyes was tough and thinking.

He guessed that the man was searching for all strengths and weaknesses, strategising. It was a natural instinct for an experienced fighter, to size up any new person or to check for threats. Despite how the red head acted, Russia knew that the man was probably a lot smarter and slyer than he lets on.

The examination only lasted a couple of seconds before the man was satisfied with the information he had collected. He smiled friendlily but there was a slight air of caution around him.

"Hello." He didn't offer his hand or his name, being subtly wary and cautious.

England had paled noticeably when the Russian appeared and was struggling to get free of his bonds more now.

America ignored Russia, preferring to glare at the red head instead.

The smoking man kept his eye on the Russian while managing to remain completely in the conversation with France and America. He was skilled at hiding his intelligence but America had not missed that pause that he took to analyse Russia before replying.

"Dude. Why do you always look people over? It's way creepy!" The red head smirked at America before purposely turning his head like it was not worth while answering or looking at America. The blonde returned with a glare. He really was simple minded and straight forward.

"You was seeking, da? For my weaknesses?" The red head turned back to Russia a little quicker than normal but his face was calm. England on the other hand, paused in his struggling to jump in surprise.

"Weaknesses?" He turned and looked suspiciously at his older brother suddenly.

"Aye." He admitted and took another puff of his near done cigarette. "It's a habit."

"A sign of a fighter, da." The red head nodded; keeping his eyes on the Russian's every move.

"Nae many ken that and fewer notice." He sounded like a mixture between impressed, annoyed and amazed.

Russia smiled more. He had caught the red head's attention successfully.

He was curious what the shorter man had learned from his brief scan though he doubted the cautious man would say. "What did you learn about me, da?"

The red head paused and thought before breaking back into a smile. It was a smile similar to Russia's, slightly sadistic.

"Hmm… Ye have high height and a large structure which means that yer certainly strong muscle wise. The way you move suggests that yer fair fast for yer size but have a low centre of balance. Your legs are yer weak points. If I were ta end up in a fight with ye, I would aim fer the knees and trip ye up. Ya have a lot of build up power but yer fighting style probably requires a lot of movement. Ye wonnae be able to fight once doon. Yer strong defensive points would be yer long arms and large torso. Another weak point would be yer back due to yer low balance. It's tha' same as yer legs. I bet yer tha' type to use wide, powerful swings. Easily dodged though but if ye did get a hit, it would hurt like hell. You could use yer fists but I bet ye favour a weapon. Something long like a club oor a bat oor a stick. Clearly an experienced fighter."

He stopped and snubbed out his cigarette in a random coffee cup on the table as everyone just gaped at his long speech. It was impressive but daring.

"Isnnae tha' right?"

"Da. Is that all you learned?"

"Nee. Tha's just tha basics."

"And why did you tell me this information you managed to collect?" He had expected the man to be secretive and refuse to give up the precious knowledge he knew and gained by merely observing. It would be valuable in a fight.

He smirked before turning his entire body to face the Russian for the first time. He stood up straight, tall and confident despite having to look up to Russia. He was utterly fearless.

"Confidence." Russia nodded in understanding.

By revealing he knew Russia's strengths and weakness, he dented Russia's confidence while at the same time, he was saying that he could win even if Russia knew how the Scotsman was going to fight. What a strong mental attack Russia though excitably. He was clearly an intelligent strategist.

"Scotland! You are not going to start a bloody fight!" The man shrugged.

"It's precautionary. I wasnae planning a fight or a war." He pulled out another cigarette and lit it expertly. England glared at him.

"I would prefer him as a friend anyway." Russia beamed.

The red head was better than he thought. He was smart, brave and a good fighter but not a fool to jump into a pointless fight. He wasn't afraid of the tall Russian either. He may be a little unpredictable and his personality was hard to identify; like one minute he was cautious, the next sadistic, the next confident, the next completely uninterested or bored; but that only made him more interesting.

The bonus was that he was England's brother and it would anger the short blonde so he wanted him all the more. It would be a waste not to collect the red head.

America suddenly interrupted Russia's thoughts. "That was so cool! How did you do that?"

"By using me brain and me eyes ye ninny."

America ignored the insult, clearly more interested by the red head's ability to see weaknesses and strength.

"Do me now! I am super, aren't I?" He rolled his eyes.

"I already fought ye." America just continued pestering him though. Russia felt like punching the blonde, just to shut him up and he began making 'KolKolKolKol' noises without realising it.

The smoking man glanced at Russia warily before turning to America.

"Yer childish, yer a spoilt bairn, yer a muscle head with nae experience, the only thing ye canne do in a fight is swing yer fists randomly and if it wasnae fer yer large strength, ye wouldnae have anything positive aboot ye!" He raised his voice a bit towards the end in annoyance at America.

"Scotland!" England scolded him loudly. "You can't go around insulting countries as you please! Now untie me!"

"Och aye. I near fergot…. My wee broth is another one of yer many, many weaknesses. Any moore questions?" America shook his head before nodding.

"Wait! What about France?"

"A bloody coward with nae back bone."

"Tu wound me L'Ecosse!" France said with an over exaggerating voice, wrapping his arms around the red head's neck playfully. The red head grinned at him. The two were definitely good friends.

England wiggled again, trying to slip out of the duck tape.

"Untie me!" The red head ignored England and looked up at Russia.

"What's yer name? I dinnae catch it."

"Russia, da."

"Scotland. Ye met me wee brother England and seen me brother Ireland at the other meetings." He pointed to the auburn who was talking with Wales. He usually left straight away at the end of the meeting but he stayed to talk with his younger brother. "Tha's Wales beside him and the big mooth that was with me earlier was North Ireland."

"Scotland." Russia nodded, committing the name to memory. The family was surprisingly large. He had two sisters but this man had a total of 4 brothers and if you counted England's colonies and Sealand, the list only grew larger.

Scotland unhitched France from around him. He held his hand out to the beige haired man who took it and shook it. It seemed like Scotland had decided that Russia was trustworthy enough to extend a hand to.

"What are ye doing Scotland?" England snapped at him. Scotland looked at him coldly. He released Russia's hand.

"You are not to go near him! Russia, stay away from my brother!" Russia smiled sweetly at England but he had an evil purple aura around him.

"Hmmm?" He was so close to becoming friends with the red hea~ I mean Scotland. He was not about to be stopped by his interfering brother. England shuddered at the sight.

Russia turned to Scotland; he hoped the red head was like the so called 'gentleman' with beer. If he got him drunk, it would be easy to carry him off.

"Would you like to go drinking with me, da?"

"I bet ye are a braw drinker with yer size…. Aye. Why not? I fancy a gud dram anaeway."

"No!" Scotland turned to England and raised a thick eyebrow.

"Aye?"

"I said no! Scotland, that is Russia!"

"Aye, I ken. He just gave me his name, ye edjit." England stammered, fully aware Russia staring angrily at him.

"T-that's not what I meant! You are not allowed to go drinking with Russia! I forbid you!"

"Ye forbid me?" Scotland stood up in front of England, towering over the man that was tied up but no one had bothered freeing him. England gulped and his voice shook but continued.

"I s-said no. You cannot go drinking with Russia." Scotland looked angry all of a sudden. The mood change was fast and drastic. France touched his shoulder.

"L'Ecosse…" He said in a low, warning voice.

Scotland continued glaring down at England for a moment who squirmed uncomfortably. He finally looked away annoyed with a loud 'Tch!'.

The blonde didn't want to endure his brother's anger but he had seen how Russia looked at Scotland whenever he came here. It was clear he was interested in him and he wanted to avoid that. Russia had a habit of trying to collect countries. He was sure that his brother would put up a fight if Russia tried to use force but if Russia tempted him with alcohol…

He was also sure that his brother might simply go drinking with the Russian for spiting the blonde but he had no other idea of how to deal with his brother. If only Scotland knew that he was trying to protect him!

Russia giggled gleefully to himself though. The red head had a fiery temper to match his hair colour. Clearly a passionate man with strong emotions. Another reason to go after him.

Wales came up behind Scotland.

"Scotland… I wannae go home soon… Me sheep will need a shearing today..." Scotland nodded stiffly before breaking out into a grin.

"Aye. Come on then. Betta ger on tha rood befoor Ireland or else weel be in truble." Ireland, who had been by the door, waiting for them, heard that and yelled at him.

"I heard tha'! Ye bloody wanker! Yer lucky I donnae ram inta tha back of tha car!"

"Like ye could catch me!"

"...Scotland… we did drive here in me car…"

"Och. Aye. Sorry er fergettin'. Nae ramming Wales's car, Ireland!"

"Aye! Fine!"

The three disappeared through the door. England watched them go.

"America. Can you get this stupid duck tape off of me?"

America nodded and ripped the duck tape easily. England rubbed his raw wrists in relief before glaring at Russia who was still staring at the door, disappointed.

At least he managed to talk to the red he~ Scotland. He could just wait until next time… but how long would that take? He could go see him. They had been introduced to each other properly now so he could easily go visit him. England distracted him.

"Russia. I want you to stay away from all of my brothers! Especially Scotland!..."

Russia turned and grinned at him. "Da! I will." He walked off, taking long purposeful steps.

England stared at his back. He had a feeling Russia was lying.

"Ballocks…."

"Angleterre?..."

"Frogface. I want you to make sure Russia goes nowhere near Scotland!" He ordered. France looked confused. He hated receiving orders from England but England sounded worried and it was about Scotland.

"Oui… but why?"

"I have a feeling Russia wants something from my bloody older brother…" France glanced at the door.

America snorted. "Yeah right dude! What would that commie want from Scotland?"

England sighed. "I don't know…. I just have a feeling…"

**(A/N - You like, da? Still mainly from Russia's point of view.**

**Well Review and say so! And thanks to those who have reviewed before! **

**Before Scotland says his name Russia, calls him red head but when Scotland says his name, he begins to call him Scotland. Clever huh?**

**Russian translation (even though there is only one and practically everyone knows it.)**

**Da - Yes!**

**I'll mainly work on Story 7 but I will do this at the same time.)**


	34. Story 8 Chapter 3

**Where does Iain Stewart Kirland live?**

_In Russia's house..._

"Ummm…. Mr Russia. W-where are you going?" Lithuania asked as Russia packed vodka into a crate.

"England's house, da!" He replied with a grin.

Latvia trembled and spoke up. "D-d-did Mr E-england invite y-you over? T-t-that's strange, I t-thought he h-h-hated you."

Russia smiled menacely at the small country before returning to his preparations. "Nyet. I'm just dropping by for a surprise visit."

"Is there a reason, Mr Russia?" Estonia asked.

"Da! I want to see England's older brother." The three Baltic States froze and stared at Russia.

"W-w-which one?"

"Scotland, da!"

"Mr Scotland?" Russia glanced at Latvia.

"Do you know of him?"

Estonia answered because Latvia looked ready to faint from fear. "Y-yes Mr Russia… Scotland trades frequently with us. We rely heavily on each other's trade… We rarely actually meet in person though…" Russia looked surprised but then he broke out into a beam.

"That's good, da! I'm going to pick him up now!"

"P-p-pick him up?"

"Da! I want to collect him. He's going to be our new pet." The three nations merely nodded as Russia strode out of the house with a box of vodka. When the tall country was gone, the trio glanced at each other.

"Should we~" "~tell England~" "~and Scotland?" They exchanged another look. Lithuania picked up the phone and dialled for England. He looked worried when it went straight to voice mail. He looked at Estonia and Latvia.

"I will try phoning later…" They nodded in agreement.

_In England's house…_

"Thanks Japan!... Yeah I will be there soon!... Where am I? I'm in Arthur's living room at the moment…. Hahahaha yeah…. He just offered me those scone things that taste bad."

"America! Don't say bad things about my cooking to Japan. My scones are delicious!" America laughed at that.

"They taste awful! Hmmm…" He turned back to the phone. "Really! Cool dude!... No I would love to try your new video game! What is it called?... 'Zombie Slaughter Zone II'! Awesome! I loved the first one!"

England sighed and began ignoring the conversation between America and Japan. America had decided to gate crash his house then monopolise his phone. The young American could be so obnoxious and annoying at times.

He just hoped that no one tried to call him today…

_In Scotland's house…_

"L'Ecosse. I finished ze bouillabaisse! (fish soup from the south of France!)"

"Braw…." Scotland looked up from his newspaper at France who had just finished cooking the soup. It smelled good.

"Tu 'ave bien poisson in ton rivers. I uzed ze Scottish zalmon and a bit of ze trout."

France had been cooking all of Scotland's meals in payment for keeping the handcuffs keys secret when he and England got chained together. France smiled as he poured the soup into two bowls.

"Bon Appetite."

"Cheers." Scotland grabbed a bowl. "Whit's fer dessert?" France pouted.

"L'Ecosse. Tu juzt got ton food!" Scotland blew on the hot liquid before popping it in his mouth, grinning.

"Aye and it's delicious like usual but I still wannae ken whit's fer dessert." France chuckled as Scotland ate the food with delight.

"Ohonhonhonhon. Tu still 'ave such a zweet tooth. It's un gâteau au chocolat!" Scotland grinned wider.

"Barry!"

The two talked with each other animatedly. The reason for the beginning of their friendship was poor but once you got past that, they actually got on very well with each other most of the time. **(A/N – I'm going to do a story on how France and Scotland actually met and became friends soon. I promise.)**

France told him about how he managed to have sex with a Scottish woman a couple of nights ago and that was basically like doing Scotland himself. The redhead had scoffed and rolled his eyes at the idea but found the thought amusing.

Scotland told him about his new girlfriend. A pretty young Scottish girl called Jenny. Apparently, they had been going out for a fortnight or so.

The blonde then told him, that according to his theory, that was the same as masturbating. Scotland gave him a light punch to the arm, playfully as they laughed and thought about the theory more.

If France's theory was true, then France had successfully managed to have sex with most, if not all, of the nations in the world and Scotland had manage to have sex with China, Germany and Belgium. France also pointed out that Scotland would be guilty of incest because of some English girlfriends and the couple of Irish and Welsh girlfriends he also once had.

They talked about some of their past lovers and girlfriends and other things that made them laugh loudly for a while, waiting for the cake to finish baking. Scotland managed to get through two bottles of whiskey while France had finished a whole wine bottle themselves.

_In London…._

Russia had no idea where Scotland lived. He had originally thought that Scotland would naturally live at his younger brother's house. The Baltic trio lived with him so it seemed natural that four, if not all five, brothers would share the same roof.

He didn't know the exact whereabouts of England's home though...

He knew it was near London. The only times he had been to England's house was whenever he was accidently summoned through so magic portal. It was a very quick and convenient way to travel but you had no idea how to get there on foot or by car.

He had just asked a shy looking woman at the reception desk in England's parliament building, it was easy to find with a road map.

"Where is Arthur Kirkland's house, da?" He knew England's human name but not Scotland's. She replied by asking why. This must be a security thing so I better answer truthfully, he thought.

"I wish to see his older brother…. The oldest one…" He was unable to give a human name. She gave a tiny snort before blushing slightly.

"The Kirklands do not live with each other…"

"Oh?"

"They have a habit of trying to rip each other's throat out if they remain in each other's presence for too long…" She added with a small smile, like it was a joke. "The oldest brother is called Iain Stewart Kirkland." She said his name delicately. Her blush had not faded.

"Where does Iain live then?" Her blush darkened slightly.

"What is your business with Iai~ Mr Kirkland?" Russia guessed that Scotland and this girl might have had a romantic relationship at one point for her to blush like that.

"A friendly visit. I simply wish to chat, da."

"Your name is?"

"Ivan Braginski." She nodded and made a quick phone call. Once she placed the phone down, she turned to the tall Russian. "Mr Braginski. It seems you have special clearance to see Mr Kirkland."

She scribbled down an address and rough directions. She folded them up and handed them to him with a wide smile. She signalled for him to lean forward a little. Russia complied. She paused before whispering. "Tell Iain that Maria says 'Hi'."

Russia nodded with a slight smile. He wasn't really planning on passing on the message. He didn't want his Scotland to be distracted by anyone.

_In Scotland's house..._

"L'Ecosse. Tu do not have any dark chocolate?"

"Nar. It's tae bittar"

They were still in the kitchen, with the chocolate cake cooling. France was trying to make icing but had no dark chocolate. Scotland was sipping on his whiskey and smoking. France tsked.

"I 'ave to go out and buy ze chocolate then. I'll be gone pour half un heure."

"Aye."

"I might be longer."

"Aye." France stopped.

"Do I get a kiss au revoir?"

"I have a girlfriend, Jenny."

"So iz zat a oui or a non?"

"Goodbye France." France pouted as Scotland swished his hand dismissively at him, telling him to shoo already.

"Juzt pour zat, I'll going to be longer on purpose. I might not be back pour trios heures now." France said slyly, still trying to tempt/force Scotland to kiss him. Scotland sighed.

"I've gotta girlfriend. Jus' go fuck someone else in tha' time if yer gonnae take three hoors!" He sounded gruff and annoyed so France chuckled, leaving.

"Oui. It will be a Scottish person though. Zat way it will be like fucking tu!" He said it in a singsong voice. Scotland growled as France skipped out the door, cheerfully.

"Edjit… I've gotta girlfriend!" He muttered to himself as he returned to reading his paper.

The door bell rang. Scotland answered the door.

"Are tu zure tu doez not wizh to kizz?"

"Gah git yer damn dark chocolate France!" He slammed the door shut.

The door bell rang again a few minutes later and Scotland stomped back to the door. He yanked it open forcefully.

"Fer fuck's sake France! I' nae gonnae kis~ Oh!"

The redhead stopped mid sentence when he saw that it wasn't France. He glanced up to look the man at the door in the face. Scotland paused before breaking out into a grin.

"Russia, right?"

**(A/N - **

**Someone asked if I name Scotland Ian. The answer is yes and no. It can be Ian or Iain depending on where you come from. I prefer using Iain but some of the characters may call him Ian from time to time.**

**Now the others:**

**Scotland = Iain Stewart Kirkland (Nickname - Alba)**

**Ireland = Seamus Duffy Kirkland (No nickname as he is offended very easily. He will punch anyone who gives him a nickname...)**

**North Ireland = Patrick 'Paddy' Kirkland (Nickname - Paddy)**

**(Paddy can be a derogative and can be short for Patrick so can be an insult or a nickname…. It matches North Ireland quite well as people tend to insult him alot but he doesn't care or notice. Some times he takes them as a compliment though. He is overly cheerful and happy-go-lucky like that.)**

**Colin Kirkland (Nickname - Cymru)**

**Arthur Kirkland (Nickname - Artie or Iggy)**

**This is mainly a transition chapter. I had to think of a way to get Russia to Scotand without England finding out. It was hard going... It took me a while to write this. It flicks between locations abit.**

**I'm going to have to change this story to a 'M' soon... Some of my ideas later on will require it... There will be no pairings **** or lemon scenes ****later on but (I'm trying not to give spoilers here) there is a lot of partial lemon and mention of mature things that might require a higher rating... Maybe I will just post warnings at the begining of storys and chapters?... What do you guys think?  
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**Review please!)  
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	35. Story 8 Chapter 4

**Off to the pub**

"Russia, right?"

Russia beamed happily. The redhead remembered his name! And he appeared happy to see the tall Russian.

"Da!" He replied joyfully.

Scotland nodded before glancing behind Russia. He was still looking out for France and when he was sure that the French man was gone, he returned his full attention to Russia. Of course Russia didn't know this so was very curious.

Russia surveyed Scotland. The Russian had only ever seen him in his bright blue uniform that hung loosely from him. Today, he wore casual clothes; thick jeans which hung low at his hips and no shirt and a thick silver-coloured steel chain around his neck. Russia marvelled at how he could stand the chilly air with so little clothing. It wasn't any where as near as freezing as Russia but it was still cold in this country with this damp weather.

Scotland stood, blocking the door but not making it obvious. He noticed that the red head didn't automatically invite him into castle. It seemed that Scotland still didn't totally trust the beige haired man.

"Can I come in?" Scotland paused. He looked unsure of whether to let him in or not. "I brought something to drink. You did invite me for a drink, da?" He held out the crate of vodka. Scotland opened his mouth then closed it again. He nodded cautiously then smiled again.

"Aye. I did invite ye fer a dram. It would be rude of meh ta change me mind." Russia smiled brighter and Scotland couldn't help but grin back. Scotland may not be the most trusting but he was friendly to strangers unless provoked to act otherwise.

"I'll grab me coat and we'll gah ta me favourite pub."

"To a pub?"

"Aye. Drinkin' is moore fun at a pub." Russia nodded excitably.

"Come in while ye wait." The red head lead him into the castle. The door slammed shut behind them without either one touching the door. Russia jumped a bit but Scotland didn't even seem to notice it.

Compared to the ancient looking exterior and surroundings, the inside was surprising very modern, shiny and clean looking.

He showed Russia to a medium sized room that acted as a living/games room. It had a huge flat screen TV hooked up to a DVD player, a wii and an x-box. One entire wall of the living room had a large book case. 1/4 of the book case was books while the other 3/4 were stacks of DVDs and games.

"Make yerself at home." The red head disappeared quickly.

Russia giggled. His plan was going well. Soon his precious Scotland will be drunk like England and it will be easy to take him home.

Russia examined the room with interest after placing the box of vodka down. It was quite stylish but not very informative of Scotland's personality. It seemed that this room was mainly designed to entertain lots of people rather to relax in. He scanned the DVDs, games and books. He was surprised by the number of classic novels and old books. Some of the books were so old and worn, they looked ready to crumble. The DVDs were a wide variety, as were the games. Russia had soon memorised the room.

It didn't suit Scotland's image.

Many of the DVDs seemed to be for someone else, some being kid's films and others being romantic comedies. Most of the games were competitive or fighting games for more than one player.

It was a room made for Scotland's guests and visitors, not for the redhead himself.

Russia was more curious about the rest of the house. He hoped it would reveal more about Scotland than this simple room. He exited the room quietly. He looked along the corridor and carefully memorised the layout. The castle was huge and it would be inconvenient to get lost.

He made his way down the first hallway, peeking in different doors. Small wisps of light and shadows trailed after him, without his notice. Small invisible creatures watched the tall man. The first five rooms were fairly large, shiny and modern like the room he was left in. They included a bathroom, a kitchen (with a cooling chocolate cake) and three guest bedrooms.

However the sixth one was very different. It was ancient looking and matched the castle more. It was a huge study with a large wooden desk in the middle. It looked expensive and well carved. Russia guessed that it might actually belong in a museum. It had unlit torches on the walls and a suit of armour in the corner like the stereo-typical castle but it also had modern things like proper lighting and new looking book shelves on the wall.

Something moved in the corner quickly but when Russia checked, nothing or no one was there.

Russia wondered if any other room was like this. He checked the next four rooms and they were old designs and layouts, with equally old but well kept furniture. In each room there were a couple of new, modern fixtures to make them more comfortable and easier to be in.

Russia smiled as he figured out the castle's design. Scotland had remodelled a few rooms to cater and accommodate to any guests but the rest of the gigantic castle was left mainly untouched so it kept its retro charm.

If the beige head had free time, he would love to explore the entire castle's grounds. He giggled at the thought of finding out about Scotland from his home. He decided to visit later.

Russia navigated himself back to the first room, taking a couple of wrong turns. He felt that things were following him but every time he checked behind him, nothing was there. The hallways and corridors criss-crossed in a complicated pattern so finding your way around was difficult but Russia eventually made it back to the living room.

He had only just sat on the huge sofa when Scotland reappeared.

He wore a white t-shirt. Over his white t-shirt, he wore a snug dark blue sleeveless hoodie with black horizontal black stripes and a picture of Jack Skeletons head. It looked good on him. He glanced at something in midair before turning his full attention to Russia. He smiled slightly but his eyes were hard.

"So did ye like tha toor?" Russia blinked before blushing. He didn't think that he would get caught.

"How did you know?"

"Ye smell like vodka, sunflowers and iron." Scotland mentioned lazily. "It wasnae hard ta notice yer scent all ova tha place." He didn't look particularly pleased. Russia smiled slightly.

"I'm sorry, da. I was just curious."

"Tha's barry and all but tell meh first. Me home ain't exactly a safe place." The red head spoke in a slow, low voice that sounded like a mix between a warning and a threat.

Russia nodded uneasily. The man sounded dangerous but he also sounded concern for the purple eyed man. The house must hold something risky and the red head was just protecting him, he reasoned….

Even more cause to collect Scotland.

If he took him away from this unsafe house, then Russia could protect him. Scotland grinned suddenly.

"Grab tha drink and I'll drive. It's only 10 or so minutes away." Russia beamed again.

He admired Scotland's ability to change so quickly. He really was like fire. One moment, he was calm, flickering flames that warmed people but the next minute he was a volatile fireball that threatened to burn everyone and everything around him to ash but soon he was calm again. It could be complicated at times but Russia still enjoyed the thrill.

He took the crate and followed Scotland to the door cheerfully.

Something suddenly grabbed his shoulder. He could feel the fingers grip him tightly and he froze.

He tried to turn around and confront the one foolish enough to challenge him, the personification of Russia but he couldn't.

He tried to call out to Scotland but his throat closed up.

He was stuck in place against his will by whoever had decided to hold his shoulder. He felt something like ice trickle from the hand and through the many layers of thick clothing to his body, freezing him slowly. He gasped when the cold touched his skin, it burned him.

Scotland turned around suddenly with a strange glare on his face that was directed to behind him. He walked over quickly and flicked at something on his shoulder.

The relief was instant as the hand and the cold slipped away. Scotland stared angrily behind Russia for a moment before turning to him with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry. Saw a spider. Thar quite common in meh home. A real nuisance." He sounded like normal. He dusted the taller man's shoulder carefully and he felt warmth instead of a chill.

"We should hurry befoore tha pub stops lettin' people in. Standin' aroond here isnae gonnae help." Scotland grinned patting him on his back and leaning on him slightly. He was led to the door subtly.

Russia looked behind him before leaving and saw nothing in the long, bright corridor. He touched his shoulder and it felt like normal, no penetrating frost or finger marks. He shivered slightly though. Yes, he had to take the red head away from here tonight.

The car journey was quiet but not awkward and over fairly quickly. Russia regretted that a little. He enjoyed being in the car with him. The only conversation they had in the car was about smells.

"How did you know I wandered around, da?"

"Told ye. I smelled ye. Yer like vodka, sunflowers and iron." Russia looked confused so Scotland explained. "Got a sensitive nose. We all do. Same with hearing." He shrugged.

"Hmmmm~" Russia hummed happy to discover another fact. Just one thing bothered him…

"I do not have any iron things on me, da." He only had a lead pipe and that was safely concealed in his jacket.

Scotland tilted his head slightly, looking a bit nervous and uncomfortable. "It wasn't that sort of… iron. It was blood."

"Da."

Scotland smiled. "At least it ainnae yer blood." He added cheerfully.

It had just begun raining lightly when they entered the pub. It was fairly busy but not uncomfortably so. Among the crowd were some strange looking humans that didn't seem quite real or there. Most of the people in the bar turn and yelled out welcomes to Scotland.

"Och Hi Iain!"

"Foos yer doos?"

"Who's tha tall bloke?"

"Hey, it's Alba!"

"Yo Scottie!"

"Introduce me tha blondie behind ye la'er!"

"Canne ye introduce meh first?"

"Nae fair!"

Scotland called back. "I'm dandy! And he is…" Scotland hesitated.

Russia finished the sentence. "Ivan. Ivan Braginski." Scotland grinned.

"Ivan." Russia giggled with a light blush when he heard him use his human name. It was so personal.

His red head then greeted a man with open arms and they gave each other a rough hug. A couple of others did the same. Everyone seemed very close and friendly. Russia was not greeted by hugs and loud cheers but he was accepted easily.

Scotland pulled two bar stools up to the bar and gestured for him to sit down. Russia grinned and placed the crate on the bar. He opened it, revealing 5 large bottles of vodka. The barmaid sauntered over and leaned on the bar in front of the too.

"Hello Iain. Braw ta see ye." She gave a wide smile.

"Och, Flora. Foos yer doos?"

"Barry." She glanced at the Russian. "Hey Ivan. Yer new ta this part?" Russia nodded with a slightly creepy smile. The barmaid gulped slightly but kept a smile.

"Braw. Ye be be gud ta oor Iain."

"Da." She looked confused but didn't say anymore to him. She faced Scotland.

"Wha will it be?"

"Two shot glasses." She produced the glasses seconds later.

The red head leaned forward to take his when he found his collar being grabbed and pulled forward.

"Hey! Whit ar~" The barmaid sniffed his breath gingerly before releasing him. He stumbled back slightly on the chair.

Russia clenched his fist angrily and tensed. How dare she? That woman laid her hands on my red head!

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Gawd! Yer alredy drunk!" Scotland laughed guiltily. "How many bottle did ye hav' befoore coming here?"

"Ummm… Three?" She rolled her eyes.

"I'm limiting ye ta one bottle of whiskey."

"Aye. Fine. But me mate Ivan brought us a wee dram so I canne live with tha'."

"Then stop givin' meh those puppy dog eyes! Gawd Iain. How auld are ye again?" He looked thoughtful before breaking into a wide grin.

"Hmmm… Auld." She smiled slightly.

"Ye should act like it then."

"Nae possible. Plus it would be borin' fer ye." He said teasingly. She sighed in defeat.

"Aye. But as long as ye dinnae git ta drunk and start some stupid fight. Especially with Thomas!"

"I'll try but nae promises." She rolled her eyes.

"Gud enuff." Russia watched the conversation curiously. He acted differently here than how he acted in his home and with his brothers.

His Scotland smiled as she took one of the vodka bottles from the crate and poured them both a shot. The Scotsman held up his glass expectantly. Russia took his glass and stared at Scotland confused.

"Da?"

"Yer meant ta tap glasses and say 'cheers'. It's fer luck."

"Oh."

They tapped glasses, saying 'cheers' and spilled a few drops of the clear drink. The hot, burning taste of vodka slipped down their throats. Russia sighed happily. This was what he wanted; to drink his favourite drink with his newest collection.

_At England's house..._

America had just left noisily after racking up a huge phone bill for England, deciding to go visit Japan instead.

England was just settling down to enjoy a cup of well deserved tea when the phone rang. He answered it politely, like a true English gentleman.

"Hello? You are speaking to Arthur Kirkland, England."

"Ummm… Hello Mr England?"

"Lithuania?" England smiled. "How are you?"

"Uh… I am fine… Do you know where Mr Scotland is?" He sounded nervous and timid, but England didn't pay mind to that. That's how he always sounded.

"He is probably at his house."

"Oh… That's good!" The timid man sounded relieved.

"Why do you need to know? Isn't the trade between your two countries handled by government officials? You rarely need to meet him."

"Uh… Well, you see… Mr Russia left today saying to he was going to… uhh… 'visit' Mr Scotland and I became worried."

England paused. He thought about it. Russia had no idea of knowing where Scotland lived. It was only known by a couple of people because of how isolated it was and Scotland's need for privacy. He was safe. Russia would not be able to find it and if he came here, he would just refuse to tell the Russian.

"It is okay. Russia does not know where he lives so he is safe."

"Thank goodness! Thank you for calming my mind, Mr England…."

"Goodbye Lithuania."

"Goodbye Mr England." The two hung up and England went back to his tea without a worry.

**(A/N - Scotland's house is haunted by ghosts, fairies and other magical creatures. It is only natural that they are not all friendly or safe. **

**I like the idea that magical creatures are attracted to people with magic. AKA - The British brothers + Ireland. The more magical you are, the more they stalk you. The brothers are not strangers to this and have had magical girlfriends - like fairies etc. **

**The more powerful your magic is then the more you attract the mythical creatures. My theroy and reason behind this (that's right there is one!) is that to produce more powerful offspring, they need a powerful mate. **

**This causes problems for the brothers though, especially Scotland and Wales (and sometimes England) as sometimes the creatures do not abide by the human's law and just try and kidnap them. It is easier to force someone help you bear a child than try and court them in their eyes. They are just like that though, it's instinctive.**

**Scotland is wearing a steel necklace to ward away fairies as possessing steel or iron stops them from 'lifting' you away. He also wears a steel stud in his left ear.**

**Wales uses a steel bracelet and a ring, Ireland uses a steel cross with Jesus on it on a long chain (He is fairly religious surprisingly), North Ireland just carrys a lump of iron ore in his pocket and England has a small iron necklace or steel cuffs on his suit. The Irish brothers also use four leaf clovers which also provide protection.  
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**Fun Extra Fact: The Irish brothers also always carry gold on them, usually in the form of multiple thick chain necklaces around their necks. They have a fondness for it and because it brings them closer to leperchauns, who they are particularly close to.  
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**In Scottish Forklore, fairies are divided into the _Seelie Court_, the more beneficently inclined (but still dangerous) fairies, and the _Unseelie Court_, the malicious fairies. While the fairies from the Seelie court enjoyed playing pranks on humans they were usually harmless pranks, compared to the Unseelie court that enjoyed bringing harm to humans as entertainment.**

**Russia was attacked by a Unseelie court fairy that wanted to freeze him to death. There are going to be more fairy related things in the future as I love them.**

**REVIEW PLEASE! **

**And my decision for that potential 'M' thing is to post a warning at the start of a potential 'M' chapter/story and keep the whole collection as a 'T' so it doesn't deter readers. My main focus is teens, not adults. And my 'M' isn't a strong 'M'. So watch out for any warnings at the start of my stories/chapters. You can chose to read them or skip them.)  
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	36. Story 8 Chapter 5

**A Warning to the Fae**

Halfway through the fist vodka bottle and Russia was marvelling at how well Scotland held his liqueur. He said he had three bottle of whiskey before coming out as well.

He had hoped that he would get drunk easily but that was clearly not the case. He really was the opposite of England.

"Whit does 'da' mean anaeway?"

"Hmmm… It means 'yes' in your language."

"Aye is tha' so?"

"Da." They both drank another shot. "What does 'aye' mean?"

"Same as 'da'."

After the first two shots, they had begun talking animatedly with each other. Russia had told him a little about his sisters and Scotland had talked a bit about his brothers. Mostly they changed through subjects randomly, enjoying each other's company rather than the contents of the conversation.

Russia laughed at Scotland's stories. He had an interesting voice and could spin a tale in an interesting way that entranced the listener. He noticed others listen whenever the redhead started a story. The accent and some of the words were hard to understand but he got the gist of most of the stories.

Scotland left for a moment to go to the bathroom and Russia watched him leave. He beamed happily. He felt a tap on his shoulder and spun around surprised.

"Hello. My name is Sorcha."

It was one of the humans who didn't look quite human. She was short and skinny with very pale skin and dark hair. She had an unusual air around her that set her apart from others. It was of an unshakable confidence and feeling of age beyond normal human years which followed her. Behind her was another man who was like her.

She smiled brightly, scanning him with her piercing blue eyes.

"How are you? You are not Scottish, right?"

"Da. Russian." He smiled slightly but only as a habit.

She glanced nervously at the bathroom before picking up the vodka bottle. She poured him a full shot glass. She lifted it and placed it in his hand. She took Scotland's glass, filled it and held it up like Scotland.

"A toast, Mr Russian?" Russia glanced at the bathroom before nodding with a smile. "Da."

The glasses clinked. "Cheers."

Russia lifted it to his lips but it was stopped by a hand. Scotland yanked the small glass out of the gloved hand and tipped it upside down, emptying it of its liquid. The vodka slashed onto the floor messily.

Russia scowled and the purple aura appeared but Scotland ignored it. Sorcha looked guilty and scared as Scotland glared angrily at her.

"Ahh… Mr Scotland…." Her confidence had faded.

"Sorcha." He sounded furious.

"I can explain!"

"Ye betta!" He snapped. The girl flinched and seemed to shrink and she leaned in on herself.

"I just wanted your attention… so I thought maybe if I took the tall man…. you might follow…" She finished the sentence feebly. Scotland took her glass and emptied it as well and slammed the two shot glasses on the bar.

He turned to the rest of bar as called out suddenly. Russia could not understand what he was saying at all.

_"Oi. All ye Fae! This man is a country like meh and under me protection. Ye lay a hand oor a finger or tempt him in anaeway and ye ken whit will happen. I will nae accept anae 'mistakes'. Tell tha other creatures as weel. This man is oof limits to all fae of all sorts and anae other magical creature."_ He looked over the whole room, his gaze falling on the couple of strange people mixed in with the crowd, who were actually magical creatures. _"Donnae tempt me wrath!"_

He threatened the disguised fairies who had hidden themselves amongst the humans and they all nodded.

He turned back to Sorcha and the man behind her. "Scram!" He snapped. They hurried away like terrified mice to another table.

Scotland sat down with a sigh. He muttered under his breath annoyed.

"Gawd damn fae! Always tryin' ta take someone ta attract meh." He moved his crimson hair away from his face. "Flora. We'll need two new glasses."

Flora obliged, taking the first two glasses away. She filled up the new ones and Scotland gulped it down instantly. Russia looked confused at Scotland and he was still a little angry about the waste of two vodka shots. Scotland glanced at Russia. He sounded serious.

"Rule #1 – Dinnae accept a drink from anae one apar' from meh and Flora. Dinnae let anae one poor ye a drink or drink from their glass if they offer it. Rule #2 – If someone offers food, deny it. Nae matter how tempting it'll look. Rule #3 – Do not make anae deals. Dinnae accept anae bets or gamble without meh givin' tha okay. Rule #4 – Dinnae walk away with anae one apar' from meh. Dinnae trust anae one or anae thing that they may say. Git it?"

Russia nodded. "Why?"

"'Cause not all these people are as 'friendly' as they seem." Russia thought for a moment while Scotland drank another shot.

"So they are dangerous, da."

"Aye but only if ye let them." The red head paused in though before pulling out the steel chain from around his neck. He unclasped it and handed it to Russia. "Keep this and it'll help keep them away. Ye dinnae need ta wear it, just keep it on yer person."

Russia pocketed the small trinket. He felt touched and very happy. A special present from his special red head. "Thank you, da." He decided not to pursue the subject anymore as Scotland obviously didn't like it much.

"What did you say earlier? What language was it?"

"Och. Tha' was just a tad of Gaelic and a warning ta tha fae. Gaelic is me native language but it was replaced by English…." Scotland looked a little depressed and Russia suddenly regretted the question.

He didn't want his special blood-coloured haired man to be upset. He felt angry at England suddenly. What little he had heard of the language was beautiful, rough and passionate. Gaelic sounded so unique.

He needed to change the subject again. Anything to keep his red head happy.

"What are 'fae'?"

"Hmmm?..." Scotland paused and thought before giving a small smile. "Fae is a word for fairies."

"Fairies? Like the little winged people, da?"

"Aye they canne take tha' form but not always. They canne be tricky creatures with their own laws and rules." Russia nodded. He didn't believe in fairies or the 'fae'. It seems like his Scotland did though…

Russia held up his glass and Scotland grinned seeing it. They bumped glasses.

"Cheers!" They grinned and continued conversation.

**(A/N - Russia was almost fairy-napped. (Sorcha was a fairy) Eating or drinking any food or drink prepared, made, poured, grown or from fairies, entraps you to their will. Hence the caution. Since Russia can't tell who is and isn't a fairy, Scotland told him to avoid drinking everyone's drink.**

**Making a promise or a deal or a bet with a fairy is like taking an unbreakable vow. If you break it you die. It's their law.**

**Scotland warned him about leaving with people as they might try to take him to the fairy world or to a revel to dance every night, causing him to waste away from lack of rest. **

**Scotland is a very superstitious man.**

** Fairy trees, such as thorn trees, are considered dangerous to chop down; one such tree was left alone in Scotland, though it prevented a road being widened for seventy years. Scottish people were terrified to step into mills and kilns at night because fairies were meant to grind their grain there. Home-owners have knocked corners from houses because the corner blocked a fairy path.**

** Lots of other storys and incidents have happened because of a fear of a fairy's wrath. Fairys could cause horrible deaths and illnesses so it was only natural.**

**Plus the actual man, Scotland, has had many fairies try to kidnap him... Usually only Unseelie court fairies kidnap but both do take humans. Only Unseelie fairies kill humans or keep them while Seelie fairies return their kidnapped vitims unless there is a promise, deal or agreement between them or there was a very important reason. **

**If there is no contract (like if the human hasn't eaten fairy food), then a human can leave at will. Most find that they can't though as they are too heavily intoxicated by the fairies. Sorcha is a Seelie Fairy.  
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**I have decided to do a story with heavy fairy involvement later. **

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	37. Story 8 Chapter 6

**Bar fight!**

A few drinks later and the two were like old friends. Scotland pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Seconds later there was a small splash of water in his face.

"Nae cigarettes! Ye ken that Iain!" Flora reminded him. Scotland huffed and threw away the wet cigarette.

"Come on Flora. Just one. It's late!" Scotland did a fake whine, pulling out another cigarette but not lighting it.

"Nae Iain! It's tha law!"

"But I been waitin' all night fer one. Just lemme hav' one." Flora rolled her eyes and turned away, settling the argument.

Scotland sighed huffily before he pushed himself away from the bar, stood up, walked to the door and opened it.

"Fuck! It's still rainin'…."

The gentle shower from earlier was now pelting down in huge drops. Luckily there was still a little light out and wasn't completely dark yet. He called back to the bar.

"Hey Flora. De ye hav' a brally?"

"Aye."

"Canne I use it?"

"Ta smoke a damn cigarette? Nae on yer life. Either git wet or donnae smoke yer health away."

"Ye remind meh of an annoying blondie 'hero' who always yappin' on aboot smoking tah…"Scotland scowled before sighing heavily and walking outside.

Russia glanced worriedly at the door before shooting a glare at Flora. She and Scotland were friends but the girl annoyed him.

"Edjit…. He's gonnae catch a cold…" Flora watched the door, unaware of Russia's anger and waiting for Scotland to come back in. "You cannae smoke in tha rain." She informed Russia before attending to other costumers.

Scotland was outside for 15 minutes before he re-emerged with water dripping down the spikes of scarlet hair. His clothes looked soaked through but he ignored the wet and the cold.

"Hows yer 'cancer stick'?"

"Dandy." He muttered but he smiled anyway. He had only placed an unlit cigarette in his mouth to chew when an angry voice called out.

"HEY IAIN!" The three people turned around. Scotland groaned when he saw the drunken brown haired man. "AYE! I'MMA TALKIN' TA YE!" The man stomped over. Scotland drank a shot.

"I'm with meh friend…. Canne ye sod oof and botha meh anotha day." Scotland sounded stressed by the man but fairly calm otherwise.

"NAR! I wanne a rematch!" Scotland rolled his eyes.

"Why?"

"I wanne a rematch!"

"Thomas! Quit botherin' me otha guests!" Flora snapped. The angry man, apparently named Thomas, ignored her.

The brown haired man grabbed Scotland's wet hoodie roughly. Russia stood suddenly, towering over the scene angrily, with a fake smile plastered on his face. The terrifying purple aura oozed out and envelope the poor man.

"KolKolKolKolKolKolKolKol" The man cringed and backed away in fear. He mumbled with a glare.

"Are ye hiding behind this mannie, ye bassa? Where's yer pride?"

Russia stepped forward, ready to kill this idiotic man who dared to threaten and insult his precious pet. He was stopped by Scotland's hand on his forearm.

"Lemme handle me own fights."

Scotland stood up and something washed over him. He no longer looked like a normal human, he was more wild and animal like now. His bright green eyes flashed with determination and power. He seemed like a completely different person. Thomas noticed this too so grinned before swinging a fist.

"So yer finally gonnae be serious!" It was dodged and the fight began.

The drunken man swung his fists wildly and angrily but none of the blows hit. They were easily avoided by the green eyed man.

"STOP RUNNIN'! Ye Coward!"

The man screamed in rage. He was silenced though as a fist slammed into his nose. Scotland's knuckles pounded into his face repeatedly. Blood was soon flowing heavily from the man. Some of his rips were broken as was his nose and lip. His upper arm was fractured but a strong side punch. The fight's outcome was clear.

Scotland over powered him easily and threw the man over the shoulder and into a table. Glasses smashed as the table toppled over, cutting Thomas. The man laid still for a moment before pushing himself up a little.

"Stay doon. Ye lost." Scotland spoke calmly but it was clear that power dripped from him. Not a single punch or kick had hit him. The man gritted his teeth. Flora sighed.

"I hope ye and Thomas are gonnae pay fer tha'… The ambulance will be here soon fer ye Thomas." Flora had called them as soon as Scotland had stood up, the instant he changed. Everyone in the bar ignored the fight, it seemed to be a common occurrence and easily predicted.

Russia stared in amazement at the bloodied man. Thomas's blood had splattered him a little but it was easily soaked in and spread around by the wet clothing. Scotland sighed and pulled at the bottom of his wet hoodie.

"Gawd… I hope this doesnae stain. It was new." He muttered to himself, turning back to Thomas.

Russia stared openly at him. He looked glorious with the blood matching his hair and his eyes still glowing and alit with power and adrenaline from the fight. He looked similar to a god of war. He felt the strong urge to collect him immediately.

Thomas glared angrily at the back of the red head's back. He saw a sharp shard of glass on the floor beside him and grabbed it. He lunged at Scotland while he was distracted with the blood on his sleeveless hoodie. He plunged the sharp like a dagger into his stomach.

Scotland had managed to turn around slightly, sensing the danger and attempting to dodge the attack instinctually but the distance between them had been too short. The glass torn through the cloth, skin and flesh. Scotland gasped a little in shock.

Russia grabbed his lead pipe and slammed it into the back of the brown hair man's head. He slumped forward as blow bounced off his head. Flora gasped as she realised what had happened.

"Thomas? IAIN? Oh my gawd! He stabbed ye!" Flora jumped over the bar and rushed to his side.

Scotland grabbed Thomas's arm, which still had a grip on the glass, and yanked it away from him. The glass stayed in his side. Scotland squeezed the arm until he held a snap. The body twitched as the pain shot through it. Thomas groaned in pain though he was unconscious. The red head eyes were burning with rage.

"How dare ye attack when meh when me back is turned!" He hissed angrily. Flora flinched at the sound.

"Iain?" She asked cautiously, worry soaked into her voice. His head snapped up and when his eyes met her brown ones, the intense emotion burning in them, cooled down to a small spark.

"Oh Flora?" He looked down at Thomas, a little puzzled looking. "Ahhh… Sorry. I lost mehself."

He let go of the broken arm and Thomas dropped to the ground. Flora knelt by him.

"Geez… Ye dinnae have ta break his arm or smash his head in like tha', you two!"

She laid the brown haired man on the floor flat and began examining him. Russia grabbed Scotland worriedly.

"Are you okay? How bad is it?" Russia was burning with anger and worry. He let his special pet get hurt while he was with him! How could he let that happen? He was bleeding! He was going to kill that man! First though, he had to help his redhead.

Scotland held the hoodie's fabric slightly apart so he could hold the glass. He held it tightly and gritted his teeth before pulling it out quickly. Russia panicked a little.

"You can't pull it out, da! You will bleed to death!" Russia wailed loudly, devastated by the injury and the sudden increased flow of blood. His blood!

Scotland rolled his eyes. He dropped the red shard on the bar counter and sat down on a bar stool, watching Flora perform basic first aid on Thomas.

Russia glared at Flora. Why was she helping him? His red head was stabbed by that man! The ambulance men arrived moments later, pulling Thomas onto a stretcher and carrying him out the door. Flora had to explain the situation to them. One came over to Scotland.

"Och Iain! How come every time I come to a pub during work, it's 'cause ye hammered someone!"

"Hmmm~… Luck?" Scotland grinned. The ambulance man sighed and eyed the torn hoodie hole and the large stain of blood around it.

"Ye git stabbed?"

"Aye but it's nae bad and it'll be healed in a couple of hoores."

"Aye then. We'll just be leaving then. Tha's man gonnae git in truble fer hurting ye."

"Only if they find oot" Scotland pointed out slyly.

"Fine! I wonnae say a thing 'cause I ken tha' by tha time ye git ta hospital, yer wound will be goone. And 'cause I owe ye." They shook hands like close friends and the man turned away to go back to the ambulance. Russia grabbed the man.

"You are not going to take him to hospital?"

"Nar. He'll be fine." Russia glared at him.

"He was stabbed, da. He needs to go to hospital!" Scotland placed a hand on Russia, trying to get him to calm down.

"It's barry."

"Barry?"

"Means good."

"Nyet! You are not good! You have been injured, da!" Russia said angrily. Now was not the time for his pet to deny his injury and bleed to death. He would not let him!

Scotland lifted up his hoodie and the t-shirt to show the cut. The blood had already completely clotted and the edges of the cut were healing. It was about 2 and a half inches long and a half inch deep.

"See." Russia stared at it. A line of red on pale muscly skin. It was healing inhumanly quickly. Russia smiled again, relieved.

"So you are fine, da?"

"Aye! Of coorse! Who dah ye think I am? England?" Russia giggled as Scotland put his shirt back down and let the ambulance man go.

The man hurried away, terrified of Russia and needing to return to the ambulance so they could take Thomas to the hospital. Flora began to pick up the other bits of broken glass and drop them in a bin. The sorted the toppled table before returning to the bar where Scotland and Russia were sitting again, talking. Scotland had managed to calm down the tall man and they were mostly back to normal.

"Geez Iain. Ye dinnae gah with tha ambulane men?"

"Nee. Ye ken meh. I'm dandy." She rolled her eyes.

"Yer weird. Ye and yer freaky body. Ye heal tah quickly." Scotland gave a loud laugh.

"It's meh 'freaky body' which has kept meh alive." Flora smiled.

"Aye but yer still a state." Gesturing to the blood. Scotland nodded with a small eye roll.

She turned away and let them continued with their drinking. She knew that Scotland was fine despite the injury and blood. It seemed to be common knowledge for everyone else in the pub as well.

_In Scotland's house..._

France arrived back at Scotland's house with four shopping bags of dark chocolate and other ingredients for other recipes he wanted to cook.

He breezed into the kitchen happily. He had been gone two hours, mainly buying chocolate and the other stuff. But he had admittedly spent half an hour trying to pick up girls at the shop. He had come very close once but then her husband showed up…

He glanced around the kitchen and wasn't surprised to find Scotland not here. The castle was huge and he was gone a while. He suspected that the red head was roaming around the castle or just outside.

He began breaking up the chocolate and placing it in a bowl to melt over hot water. A note on the fridge caught his eye. He pulled it off and looked at it.

It was addressed to him…

He guessed….

Scotland had bad handwriting. He read the note, trying to interpreter it. Deciphering it took a while.

'_Francis._

_Ye took tah long so I left. Havin' sex with a Scottish lassie doesnae count as havin' sex with meh! I hav' a bloomin' girlfriend so git ova it and hav' a cold shower!'_

France laughed loudly reading this part. According to France, no matter what Scotland said, it did count.

'_Anyway, I was gonnae hang aroond fer a while but then Russia showed up and invited me fer a dram. I decided ta gah. Might be back tahnight, might not. _

_Scottie.'_

France paled. He re-read it again and again, checking it.

Scotland had left to go drinking with Russia!

England had only told him two days ago not to let Russia near Scotland and now he was away from the red head for only 2 hours and Russia managed to take him away right under his nose. His perfect, beautiful nose! What was he going to do?

Scotland could stand up against America so he might be okay….

But what if he passed his limit? He already had three whole bottles of whiskey. How much more alcohol could he handle? Quite a lot but there was no knowing how long Scotland had been away drinking with Russia. 2 hours was a lot of time to drink a lot of alcohol.

God! What would Russia do to him? He panicked. England said Russia was interested in him. He didn't want his best friend to be collected! Look what happened to the Baltic trio! He just to go to the pub they were in and rescue his drunken friend!

Two problems….

Scotland didn't say _which_ pub he was going to….

And Russia terrified him….

Maybe he could call England….

"Damn to L'Ecosse! Forcing me to call Angleterre!" He dialled the number of his rival and sighed irritated and relieved when England's voice came through.

"Hello? You are speaking to Arthur Kirkland, England." France huffed.

"Angleterre! I need y~"

"Fuck it Frog." The line went dead. France phoned again.

"Hello? You are speaking to Arthur Kirk~"

"Russia is with ton frère!"

"WHAT?"

"I left L'Ecosse alone at home for a couple of heures and when I came back he was gone!" The line was silence but he could still hear England breathing. "Angleterre?..."

"Didn't I tell you not to let Russia near my brother?" He hissed over the phone angrily. France glared into the phone.

"Do not take zat tone with moi!" He snapped. "Russia shouldn't know where L'Ecosse livez! Only tu and ton frères et moi 'ave zat info! Russia doez not know ze frères so zat meanz zat tu must 'ave said!"

"How he know where my wanker of a brother lives is not the fucking problem! Where are they?"

"Zat I do not know. He'z at ze bar though."

"A bloody pub? Damn it! I was hoping that the git would remain sober… He will be defenceless if that damn Russia gets him drunk."

France paused. England sounded very openly worried about Scotland. That was rare. He knew that despite the brother's open hatred and many quarrels, past and present day, they still had some brotherly love. How much they had was a mystery but the blonde assumed not a lot… Maybe it was more than he thought…

He pushed that thought to the back of his mind. Right now was not the time to ponder how much the two loved each other.

"What zhould we do, Angleterre?"

"That is obvious, Frogface. We go search for that git and make sure Russia doesn't do something to him!"

"Oui."

"Wait at Scotland's house. I'll be there soon!" The phone was hanged up and France was forced to wait for England's arrival.

**(A/N - England and France to the rescue!**

**Thomas is someone who Scotland fights with sometimes but usually when sober and it's a planned fight. However the man was drunk and jealous and angry that he never won so he lost control of himself. He was just a violent drunk.**

**I don't have much to say at the moment... REVIEW!**

**Review because I need to know if you like the way the story is progressing! I also nned to know if you liked a certain story and why so I can write more types of that story. It's also important because they motivate me... I run out of motivation so easily...)**


	38. Story 8 Chapter 7

**Pass his limit**

Two bottles later and Scotland was bright red in the face and grinning happily. The change was so fast. One minute he was normal, talking like his usual self and one shot later, he was red faced and slurring his words with a gentle sway.

The red head had clearly passed his limit. He leaned on his hand.

Russia was a little drunk as well but he didn't have three bottles of whiskey before coming here so was acting mostly normal. The pub was getting kind of warm so he had removed his gloves and top coat and placed it on another stool. Scotland had kept on his hoodie though as he knew that the white t-shirt he was wearing would look bad and heavily bloodied. His stab wound was almost gone but the blood covered the front of his clothing freely.

They had been drinking for a few hours now. Scotland closed his eyes for a moment. The elbow that he was leaning on was suddenly swept from under his head. He fell face first into the surface of the wooden bar. He lifted his head.

"GAWD DAMMIT FLORA!"

"Shut it Iain! Ye cannae pass oot in me pub agen! If you pass oot in here agen, expect ta find yerself at the mercy of tha homeless shelter when ya wake up!" Flora threatened. Scotland rolled his eyes.

"I'll gah ho-home in a manate… I mean mimute. Minute!" He corrected his slurs until he managed to say the word.

Russia giggled at him, pink in the face from the large quantity of vodka. His face was almost the same colour as his hair. He did look on the verge of passing out. Russia guessed that Scotland had about the same alcohol limit he had which was impressive. Russia had never met anyone that could match him drink to drink before and if his red head hadn't already drunk 3 large whiskey bottles, they would be equal at the moment.

Flora rolled his eyes. "Ivan, do ye ken where he lives?"

"Da."

"Gud. He's gonnae pass oot soon and I dinnae ken where he lives. Canne ye take him home when he finally does pass oot?"

"Da." Russia smiled a little too widely and it creeped Flora and several other costumers who were still there.

It was pitch black outside and approaching midnight fast. Scotland seemed too happy and caught up in his own pleasure to notice anything wrong.

A 'happy drunk' in other words.

Very happy...

Flora sighed. Scotland only got this drunk once or so a fortnight. There was an unknown reason for that though…

Fairies were known to try and take advantage of this time.

Sorcha smiled at Scotland as he laughed loudly. The red head leaned on Russia slightly. The disguised fairy walked up to Scotland gingerly and wrapped her arms around him. Her voice was sweet and innocent and slightly higher than most.

"Hello Alba. Are you happy?" Usually Scotland would tense but act friendly to her unless she tried something but at the moment Scotland smiled widely at her and answered brightly.

"Och, heys Soorsa. As luvely-y as usaal. I'm doin' da-andy!" He slurred. She pecked his cheek and he didn't resist or told her to leave him alone like normal.

Russia shot a confused glare at her.

Sorcha became braver in her actions, kissing Scotland longer on his cheek but closer to his mouth.

Then again.

Then again.

Then again.

The red head turned his head a little, suddenly realising that he was being kissed. The next kiss landed on his lips and his eyes widened momentarily before closing slightly in pleasure.

The kiss deepened as Sorcha pulled herself closer to him. Scotland seemed unable to resist as she began to straddle him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Russia blushed and looked away. He wanted to intervene but Scotland seemed happy. Actually very happy.

The red head was trapped in ecstasy by the fairy; he was possessed as Sorcha forced the kiss deeper, sparking tongues. Their tongues danced and Scotland somehow found his arms wrapped around her thin waist.

The kiss paused. Sorcha whispered in his ear without the stainless steel stud.

"Do you want to kiss more?" Scotland nodded with a grin, only semi-consciously.

"Do you want to come with me?" Scotland nodded again, not fully aware of where he was or what he was doing.

"So you will follow me of your own free will?"

"Aye." His usual Scottish rough accent was gruff with lust and longing.

"Promise?"

"A~"

"IAIN!" Flora snapped loudly drawing the attention of everyone in the pub. They all looked at her. Flora was glaring murderously at Sorcha.

"Excuse me Sorcha… I think ye betta leave tha man alone. He has a girlfriend. Gah back ta yer friend." She gestured to the man at the back. Sorcha glared at her. "I said, gah back ta yer friend! NOW!" She yelled angrily.

Flora was not a simple or weak woman. She near single-handedly ran a Scottish pub, which had a regular stream of drunks and violent costumers. The woman managed to control these people in her pub by fear and power alone. People rarely defied her.

Sorcha sighed huffily, sliding off of Scotland's lap who watched her leave with a small pout. A grin was soon plastered on his face again; he was too intoxicated to do otherwise. He turned back to the bar and Flora did a loud sigh. She whispered to Russia.

"Ivan. Watch that girl, Sorcha. She has a hobby of trying to steal other lassie's boyfriends but fer some reason, she obsessed with Iain. Maybe it's 'cause he's tha only one tah turn her doon every time. I dinnae ken. She's always waits 'til he's like this though befoore trying ta make a move though so be careful."

She turned back to Scotland who was smiling happily, already forgetting his kiss with Sorcha. Russia watched them now. "Gawd Iain! Yer tha smartest man I ken but as soon as ye git this drunk, ye agree ta anaething and everything! Yer lucky ye hav' nae been married by accident yet."

Russia's ears perked up suddenly. Anything? Huh?...

"Dah I? I dinnae notose… notice."

"Of coorse not! Yer tah hammered!" Scotland just smiled back, nothing being able to bring down his high. "Geez… Yer just lucky I was here ta stop ye from dahing something yer regret... Are ye payin' attention?"

"Aye… Nee… Whit?" Scotland drank another shot.

"Ye really would agree to anae thing?" Flora marvelled. "If I asked ye ta marry me, ye would wouldn't ye?"

"Huh? Ye wannae morry meh?"

"Geez! Remember yer girlfriend, Iain! Jenny! Jennifer! Wee Jen!"

"Och. I lave Janny." Scotland was grinning widely with his face a deep crimson red. Flora rolled her eyes, giving up on talking to the drunken red head.

"Is he always like this when he gets drunk, da?"

"Nar, usually he's braw with alcohol and it doesnae effect him. It's oonly when he gits _this_ drunk. He's a real edjit like this. Nothing can bring him doon apar' from his brothers. And he'll laugh his head oof at tha wee'est joke. He'll just giggle non-stop." Flora gave a sigh with a small shrug. "At least he's happy when he's like this."

Flora didn't have a lot of costumers to serve now as most of them had left. She turned back to one of the few costumers left. Russia drank a shot. He suddenly wanted to tell a joke. He wanted to see Scotland giggle. It seemed odd that he could or would.

"What's the difference between Americans and yogurt, da?"

"I dinnae ken."

"If you leave yogurt alone for 200 years, it'll grow a culture, da."** (A/N - Okay. I admit - That was a shot at Americans. I actually love America. The country and the person.)**

Scotland paused a moment before suddenly laughing very loudly. The few in the bar turned and looked at him. He just continued laughing though, ignoring the stares.

Russia stared in amazement. He really was laughing non-stop. Passing his alcohol limit really did change his personality. He quietened down into a low giggling. Russia joined in the giggling for a while, enjoying Scotland's drunken joy.

After 10 or so minutes, he finally calmed down. Flora rolled her eyes. "Told ya, Ivan."

Scotland leaned his head on the bar, tired from laughing so hard. Russia could see the tops of his ears which were a bright scarlet and a silver coloured stud. His hair and clothes were dried now from the warm pub and the time spent in it. His red hair was messy and coarse looking.

Russia leaned in to examine the hair more. That was one of the main reason he found him so intriguing and rare; his blood red hair that clashed with his bright green eyes. He had never met someone who had such a bright natural hair colour.

Russia blinked, looking closely at the hair. It was surprisingly fine close up; there was just a lot of it though so it appeared thick and coarse. Russia reached forward a little and touched the tips of the red hair with his bare fingers. It was soft.

He glanced at Scotland and he was motionless. He wasn't sure if the red head had not noticed the touch or if he knew but wasn't bother by it. Normally he would think the latter before of his keen senses but while drunk…

Russia gave it a quick stroke. Scotland still didn't move.

Russia stroked it again.

And again.

And again.

Soon he had found himself gently petting the man like he was a cat. The hair felt like fine feathers, so supple and fluffy. How surprising!

Russia smiled as he caressed the crimson spikes. He was happy that he had taken off his gloves.

"Hmmmm~" He stopped suddenly at that sound. Scotland had hummed slightly. "Diddae…. Dinna stop…" He murmured, still slurring his words.

Russia started to rub the hair again in a comforting way. He loved the gentle softness of the hair. Scotland hummed happily again. The humming deepened and it sounded a bit like purring now.

"You sound like a kitty, da."

"Hmmm~ Tha's 'cuze I'mma lik a animal… wolf... Grew up like one… Instinctiv~…" He trailed off with a content sigh and a yawn. He gave a sound similar to a low, throaty purr of pleasure and Russia smiled wider.

"Is he asleep now?" Flora asked.

"Nar…" The red head mumbled quietly, he sounded half asleep now.

"Gawd. He has drunk tah much and now he's gonnae pass oot agen in meh pub." She complained. She looked at Ivan who only had a light pink tinge on his cheeks from drinking. "Ye sober enuff ta take this numpty home?"

"Da." Flora smiled at him gently.

"Yer a gud friend. Ye ken?" She turned to Scotland. "Iain! Ger up! Ivan gonnae take ye home. Don ye dare fall asleep in here!" Scotland raised his head a little.

"Huh?"

"I SED GIT UP!" Scotland snapped up suddenly. He swayed a little but remained up-right.

"I'mma goin'! I'mma goin'!" He mumbled annoyed.

"So yer oof yer sugar high? No longer feelin' so cheerful?" He scowled a little, but it wasn't very effective with his face still a bright red, before grinning again. He still seemed in his usually high spirits but now all his energy was nearly gone.

"He's gonnae crash soon and collapse. Ye git him home before tha happens oor ye'll neva wake him up til morn'." She told the tall man as he stood up.

Russia put on his long tan coat and stuffed his gloves in his pocket. Scotland stood up unsteadily after him and swayed dangerously. The beige haired man watched him carefully, with a worried smile. He hoped he didn't fall over and hurt himself. Maybe he should assist him or maybe carry him? Before he could decided whether or not he should help, Scotland tried to walk forward, stumbled and crashed into Russia.

"Fuck." He mumbled in a slur as he tried to untangle himself from the scarf, he had somehow managed to get caught up in.

"Iain. Ye cannae walk in a straight line anae moore? This is why you shouldnae drink pass yer limit." Flora scolded him from across the bar whilst filling a pint glass with lager. Scotland grinned at her, still endlessly cheerful.

"Aye?"

"Aye." Russia un-wrapped the scarf from around Scotland. The red head leaned on him heavily but he didn't mind. Scotland obviously couldn't walk properly after drinking such a phenomenal amount.

Russia made up his mind. He scooped the off-balanced red head off his feet. He held him bridal style.

If Scotland was sober or even his normal drunkenness, (and not pass his limit) he would have struggled violently against Russia. His pride would never let him be carry by anyone, except for special exceptions (heavily injured – like a broken leg etc.) and only by his brothers and sometimes France. Scotland's mind throbbed as he tried to understand how he went from standing to sideways in a matter of seconds. The large amount of vodka and whiskey coursing throughout his entire body was wreaking havoc on his senses, especially his balance.

"Bludy heel. The world jus' tipped." He gripped his head dizzily with one hand and Russia's chest with the other.

"Nyet. I just picked you up, da!" Russia replied brightly.

"Oh…" was the only thing that Scotland could say. His head lulled a bit as he became used to his new height and he released his grip on his head. "Chers mite-ate…" He slurred with a grin.

"Da!"

"Yer a gud friend."

"Спасибо!"

"Whit?"

"It means 'Thank You', da."

"Aye?" Scotland sat there smiling up at Russia, a deep red in the face.

"Hmmm~ You're so cute when you are bright red like this."

"Hmmm?"

"Da. You should come back to Russia with me." Russia hoped that Flora was telling the truth when she said that Scotland agreed to anything when like this.

"Aye. So-sure. Why nat?" He mumbled happily.

"Really?" Scotland nodded sleepily.

"Och. Okiy-ay..."

"So you will become one with Russia? And live with me?"

"Ay… e…" Scotland closed his eyes a little and his head leaned on Russia's chest. He was still awake but right on the verge of passing out. Russia grinned. He said yes!

He should get him to sign something though… he might change his mind when he sobers up… plus there was that annoying blonde brother of his, England, who will try to get in the way. In his opinion, England should just let him keep Scotland; he would be happier with him anyway. Plus the brothers only fight; it made more sense this way.

Now he only had to take him home.

Russia began to carry the red head towards to door, when it slammed out.

"SCOTLAND?"

**(A/N - Scotland is normally a good drunk. In fact he is a great drunk. In fact it is near impossible to tell when he is sober or drunk, he is that damn good. But like every drunk, he does have a limit. His limit just happens to be very high. But when he does cross it... **

**I imagine that he acts goofily and very happy-go-lucky and maybe a bit gigglely. He probably would talk too much and it would be about utter crap. In my head canon, he isn't actually defendless as if he is suddenly weak or a push over, he's just very agreeable and doesn't think. You could convince him to do almost anything plus it will take him a couple of days to remember it so you had time to run away or escape if it was something he would regret or didn't like.**

** Unfortunatly he can switch from a 'happy drunk' to an 'angry drunk' easily when provoked. He becomes violent, loud and obnoxious, picking fights with random drunks, usually his brothers. After a night as an 'angry drunk', he usually wakes up in a cell beside either Ireland or North Ireland. Luckily he rarily passes his limit so he very rarely ends up in jail.**

** Trying to write like a drunk person with a slur is hard...**

**Review Please! **

**A small reminder - If you don't like the story, skip it! I didn't put them together like this, just to make it easier for me (much). It's so you can pick what story you read.**

**I still need to know what type of story you would want next. Most of my next story ideas are either action, very mild horror, surreal or a little fluffy. **

**I'm not a mind reader! You need to tell me what you want so I can deliver! Do you want fluff or action or what?)**


	39. Story 8 Chapter 8

**Here comes England  
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"SCOTLAND?"

This would be the 24th pub in Scotland they had visited, trying to track down his idiotic, alcoholic, problematic brother!

He was soaked through by now. Why of all times did it have to rain now? His brother had the strangest weather patterns; hopping from hail to sun to snow to hail again, in the middle of MAY!

'If ye dinnae like meh weather, just wait a 10 minutes and it'll change.'

Only Scotland could cope with this! Weather was so much simpler in England; it either rained or was sunny. It was so changeable in Scotland, all thanks to that Gulf Stream. At least it stopped Scotland from freezing over in winter like Canada who shares the same latitude.

France was still in the car with a map, trying to figure out where the next pub was if Scotland wasn't here.

"Och. Hey Iggy!" Scotland called out happily with a heavy slur.

His brother was grinning maniacally and a bright crimson.

Crap!

Dear god!

He had actually passed his limit! Did he drain the bloody pub of its whiskey supply!

Double Crap!

Russia was still here! Holding him! Why on God's fucking Earth was Russia carrying Scotland bridal style?

How drunk is Scotland anyway? He has that stupid grin on his face but he hasn't passed out yet. How many bottles of whiskey was that again?

Eight or nine? Maybe ten?

Wait!

That doesn't matter! Russia is trying to carry Scotland off! To Russia!

His boss and other brothers would kill him if he let that happened! And Scotland if he ever sobers up!

"RUSSIA! Let go of my brother!" Scotland snorted.

"How ro-rude! Igno-oring yer auldi-er bro!"

"Shut it Scotland! You're drunk!" Scotland scowled, his happy mood quickly vanishing.

"I fargit how bigga piece of shite ye are! Sodooff!" Scotland replied angrily.

"God Dammit Scotland! I'm here to fucking rescue you!"

"ARTHUR!"

"Huh?"

"Gawd! Leave Iain alone!"

"Uhhh… Fiona?"

"Flora!" She snapped. "And every time ye come ta me pub, you only cause trouble! Ye either git drunk and rant about how hard ye life is or ye come and cause trouble fer Iain or his brothers!"

"Not now Flora! Iain is in trouble already! That's Rus~ IVAN! He's a dangerous man!"

"Ivan hasnae caused any trouble!"

"And tha's a tad mean, Iggy! Yer bein' an erse-se."

"I mean it Iain! Just shut it you git! Didn't I tell you not to go near him!" He pointed an angry finger at the smiling Russian with a deep purple aura around him.

"KolKolKolKol…."

"Och! Aye! Sarrie! I fergat tha' yer tha bossiest twa-at I ken!" He decided to ignore his brother now. Provoking him into an 'angry drunk' would only worsen things. At least when he's a 'happy drunk', he's cooperative and cheerful….

Maybe a little too cooperative as he's being carried off willingly and maybe a little too cheerful as he seems oblivious to it but he was rarely like this.

Scotland yawned. He looked exhausted so he might pass out very soon. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing…

"Russia can you please release my brother?" England was trying to contain his worry and anger.

"Nyet."

"You wanker! Just give me back my brother!" Damn it! He lost his temper again.

Scotland didn't say anything though; he seemed a little zone out. He was grinning goofily again. England sighed internally. The red head was just too irrational…. Even more so when hammered…

England stomped over to them and grabbed Scotland's wrist.

"Let go!" He pulled the arm hard so Scotland partially fell from Russia's arms. That is when he saw the blood on Scotland and the ripped clothing showing that he was stabbed. He gasped and turned red with anger.

"RUSSIA YOU BASTARD! You attacked him!"

"Nyet!" Russia was horrified that he could hurt Scotland like that.

"Look at the blood! He's been stabbed!" England pulled again.

"Oi! Wotch it…" Scotland murmured.

"Nyet!" Russia pulled Scotland up into his arms again. England kept his tight grip on Scotland's arm.

"Russia. You cannot kidnap my brother! You hurt him!"

"Nyet! He agreed to it!" Russia said indignantly.

"HE'S DRUNK!" England burst out. "He's an absolute moron when he's like this!"

"Oi!" Scotland pouted. "Tha's meh-mean, Iggy…" England rolled his eyes.

"Come on Iain! I'll take you home."

"Nyet! His home is Russia now, da!" Russia glared murderously at England and he flinched but didn't let go of his brother.

"I mean it Russia! Drop him!"

"He is mine now, da. He'll be happier in Russia. You two only fight here." England twitched.

"You know nothing!" He hissed with rage. "What goes on between me and MY brothers has nothing to do with you!"

"Scotland belongs to me now, da!"

"No! He's mine!"

Russia's purple aura was at its maximum and the mysterious 'KolKolKol' sounds were emitting full blast. Everyone except for England was cowering at the back of the pub, even the strong Flora and the fairies whom were hidden among the few humans.

England felt terrified too but he was trying desperately to suppress it. Yelling seemed to help.

"He belongs to Russia, da!"

"He is part of the United bloody Kingdom!"

"A-and Narf Iralend-nd." Scotland slurred quietly.

The two ignored him, not realising that they had both let him go; Russia preferring to tightly grip his lead piper and England preferring to place his hands on his sides to look more threatening and angry.

Scotland was somehow standing/wavering between the two as they yelled about dominance over him.

To be honest it was kinda pissing him off. Last time he checked, he was 'Scotland the Brave', not 'Scotland the Dominated' or 'Scotland the Trophy'. He wasn't some little weak puppy or prize to be won or taken. His happy buzz was wearing off now and the shouting was too loud for comfort. Plus the world was spinning and twirling out of control.

Maybe he should just shut them up?...

"Angleterre? Is l'Ecosse 'ere or no~"

_Thump! _

_Thump! _

"Och Hey Froncis-is-is!"

The Frenchman had only walked in to find Russia and England fall face first on the floor and Scotland standing above them. It seemed he had just hit them both hard on the back of the head. There appeared to be a faint glow on his hands but when France blinked, it was gone. The redhead also had a lot of red blood over the front of his clothes. He swayed dangerously for a moment.

"l'Ecosse? What happened?"

"Uhh… Iggy and Ruscia were howlin' so I jus' hep them gah ta z-sleep" France stared in amazement. Scotland was completely hammered but he just managed to~

_Thump!_

Scotland landed on the floor, in between Russia and England.

"L'Ec~ IAIN!" France rushed forward, obviously too late to catch the passed out red head but wanting to check if he was okay. "Are tu okay?" Surprisingly he mumbled a quiet reply.

"I neva ken til I sober up…." He fell completely silent with a grin and a red face. France sighed as Flora stood behind him.

"Francis, ye take these edjits home. I refuse ta let them stay!" France nodded nervously. The angry Scotswoman scared him a little.

"Can tu call un taxi?"

"Aye. Tha taxi will be here soon." She was already on the phone, ordering a taxi.

The taxi took a long time to arrive. It was busy transporting other drunks to other pubs or other houses. The taxi driver assisted in carrying the three unconscious men to the car. They had great difficulty trying to fold Russia so his long legs could fit in the car.

France decided that staying in a hotel would be best. Scotland wouldn't like it if England stayed in his house, Russia was a long plane flight away from home and the beige haired man would probably be angry if he woke up on a plane and England was going to be grumpy wherever he wakes up.

**(A/N - Is it wrong to like Flora? She's kinda cool.**

**A couple of more chapters left for this story.  
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**Not much to add from the last chapter's notes. REVIEW!)**


	40. Story 8 Chapter 9

**Give me a reason.**

"God… What bloody hit me?" He rubbed the back of his head. He had a horrible headache. It was very painful like a hangover but without the dizziness and destressingly loud sounds. He couldn't remember drinking though…

The room was dark and he was in an unfamiliar place. It was still night time.

"Shhh… L'Ecosse did but he'z ztill asleep." The voice whispered at him.

"Nae anymoore." The person sounded gruff and annoyed but alsowas whispering.

"Oh! L'Ecosse!"

"Git oot of meh bed!" They were both speaking in whispers so England had to concentrate to hear them. There was a shuffling noise and a squeak followed by a thud.

"Ow!"

"Fucking hell France!"

"L'Ecosse! Shhh… Your tall Russian friend iz ztill asleep… Conzidering tu knocked him out."

"Really? Cannae remember tha'…"

"Oui." There were more noises as the two moved around. England caught a bright flash of green in the blackness. Scotland's eyes. He thought it was creep, how they seemed to glow like that...

"France. Watch oot. Yer gonnae walk intae a bed."

"Euh. Zat ability to see in the dark is très strange."

"Wotch it. I could jus' let ye walk intah a wall."

"Désolé." There were footsteps and a stream of light as the door opened and he saw the two silhouettes.

"Gawd. I'm still covered in blood."

"Oui. How did zat happen anyway?"

"I hammered some wee mannie and he bled ova meh. Then I turned meh back and he stabbed meh." France sounded alarmed.

"Quoi?"

"Dinnae sound so worried. It was shallow and it healed quickly enuff."

"But tu were sta~" The sentence was cut off as the door closed, shutting England inside in the strange bed and a sore head.

**Later (after the sun had actually risen)...**

Russia woke up the next day, in a strange room. It was plain, simple, a light green and reminded him of a cheap hotel. What had happened yesterday? He remembered drinking with the redhead then his brother showed up then….

He thought hard but he just couldn't remember what had happened after that. He looked around. It was a fairly large room. It had four single beds in different corners. One bed was very neat like someone had made it carefully, one was a complete mess and the last one was somewhere in the middle, like someone had just got up but was planning to neaten it later.

A short blonde emerged in a suit from what he guessed to be the bathroom. He straightened his tie before glancing at Russia. He scowled.

Russia glared back with a wide creepy smile. The tension between England and Russia was huge as they stared at each other, weighing each other's strengths. The atmosphere in the room was near murderous when the door opened.

Scotland and France stood there. The horrible atmosphere was obvious. "Wrong room." Scotland said before shutting the door. England was right by the door though so he yanked it open violently and yelled before the red head could leave.

"Scotland! Get in here!" The red head sighed huffily before walking in moodily. England noticed that he was wearing clean clothes now. France tried to turn around and escape but he found the collar to his designer silk shirt being held.

"Oh no ye dinnae, Francis. Yer stayin' with meh."

"But L'Ecosse!" France said panicked, glancing at Russia who was coated in a thick dark purple haze and his infamous 'kolkolkolkolkol'. Scotland leaned into his ear.

"Yer making England look braver and stronger than ye…." France paused before gulping and standing anxiously behind his friend. England had to give his brother credit; he was a lot more manipulative than he let on. Russia noticed this too.

The two arguing countries were suddenly on either side of the reason for the conflict.

"Scotland! Tell this bloody Russian that you are part of Britain!"

"Nyet! You are part of Russia now!"

"Bloody wanker! Belt up! He's nowhere near Russia!"

"America was further away, da."

"That was different, git!"

Scotland sighed, obviously annoyed.

"He is Russia's, da."

"Britain's!"

"Russia's!"

"Britain's!"

"Russia's!"

"Britain's!"

"Scotland's."

England jolted in surprised as Scotland suddenly joined in and Russia tilted his head slightly. Both countries stared at him a moment.

"Finally ye shutted up. Ye both sound like wee bairns. Nae surprise fer Iggy but fer Russia, I'mma a tad surprised."

Scotland pulled out a cigarette and chewed on it thoughtfully. Smoking was illegal in public places but it still annoyed the blonde that he had the habit of taking out a cigarette anyway, even if he never lit it. England looked irritated. Russia was smiling at Scotland in a creepy way.

"Scotland. You have to tell Russia that you belong to the UK."

"Nyet. Scotland tell him that you belong to Russia, da." Scotland scanned them both, thinking.

He could be clever and manipulative when he wanted to be, he wasn't just booze, violence and smoking. Magic required brains, so did fighting and gambling. France grimaced slightly at this look. Scotland may be smart but he still sometimes acted on impulse at times. If he got an idea he liked and thought could work, he would use it instantly.

"Hmmm…" He hummed slightly in thought, already having a plan. "Sorry Ivan but I dah haffa Treaty of Union with me wee broth…." England smiled in triumph.

"Hah!" Russia pouted, looking down-casted at his shoes.

"But~" Russia looked up hopefully. But? But what! England looked the exact opposite. "I canne always become independent."

England's mouth fell open before snapping shut. "You can't!" He blurted it out.

"Why?"

"Because…. Because…" England floundered around for a reason, any reason, for his brother not up and leaving WITH RUSSIA!

"Because of the treaty!"

"A public vote will nullify tha'."

"Because your economy will collapse!"

"Me economy is fairing betta than yers. Me government canne cope with independency plus we're tha ones with tha oil tha's supporting a grand bob of tha country's economy."

"Our boss wouldn't let you!"

"He wonnae be 'oor' boss afta I leave." Scotland sounded smug as England grew more and more desperate. England looked around the room frantically as if that would help him think of reason for Scotland not to go. Scotland leaned into his brother, very close to the blonde's ear so his breath tickled it.

"All yer doing is giving meh half assed reasons fer why I shouldn't gah… Try giving meh a good reason to stay insteed…" It sounded a little suggestive. England blushed slightly. The redhead straightened his back and stood tall and confident.

"Weel? Can ye dah tha'?"

"Do what?"

"Give meh a reason ta stay and I will. Ye git ta tahnight then I'mma declaring independency." His smile was sadistic and challenging.

"Just one reason?"

"Aye but cut tha half assed crap. If I donnae like it then I wonnae accept it." England nodded with a smile. This was going to be easy. Only one reason and he will have beaten Russia and his attempts at taking his brother.

France looked very worried though. He whispered into the redhead's ear.

"Tu sure zis iz wize, L'Ecosse? Tu are making a grande gamble…." Scotland smiled slyly.

"Aye. Wannae place a bet on tha outcome?" France rolled his eyes.

"L'Ecosse…." He said sternly.

"Come on France. It'll be intaresting tah see how he will act." France sighed dramatically. His friend was taking this unnecessary risk on a whim. England had been looking thoughtful the entire time, ignoring Scotland and France's private conversation.

Russia had been staring happily at Scotland the entire time. The brothers obviously didn't get along at all. Whatever poor excuse England tries to give will surely be ignored. He only had to wait until tonight then his precious red head will belong to him forever.

England had thought for a while and finally spoke. "You shouldn't leave because our countries are joined via land." Scotland rolled his eyes. He looked disappointed and slightly pissed off. He gave the thumbs down sign and made the negative game show noise.

"Et Euhh! Nae gud enuff. Try agen!" England snorted.

"And why the bloody hell not?"

"If whit ye say is true then all gathered land masses would be unda a single ruler. Try agen." England crossed his arms annoyed. It was his default setting. Scotland looked like he was thinking again.

"Hey Russia. Wannae gah oot somewhere? Maybe fer a drink later? France ye canne come tah."

"Da!"

"Quoi?" "What?"

France and England glared at each other for speaking at the same time before glaring at Scotland. France pulled Scotland away who was bemused at their reactions.

"Tu es fou? On ne va pas boire avec la Russie! Pourquoi voudriez-vous suggèrent même que? C'est si stupide!"

France had slipped back into his native tongue at the shock of the sudden proposal. It was horrible enough that his best friend had decided to gamble his freedom on an impulse but now he was tempting the disaster openly. And inviting France with him!

"Ouais, je suis un peu fou et ouion va pour boire un verre de petits avec la Russie. Écoutez la France. L'Angleterre est évidemment pas de l'obtenir sans une petite aide. Il est épaisse au crâne et inutile quand il s'agit de choses comme ça. Cela aidera ... probablement ..." Scotland replied fluently in French, his accent acted differently when he spoke French.

Being in the Auld Alliance had forced him to learn French since he didn't know English at the time and France was too proud to learn Gaelic. France had only ever learned French and English because he loved his language too much and he wanted to insult England in English. Strangely enough England didn't bother learning French out of a hatred for France...

It was an unusual arrangement but no one really cared as long as they could understand each other most of the time.

'But you are the same!' France thought back angrily. England spoke up annoyed.

"Don't speak French around me Frogface! I don't understand your stupid language!" Normally he would reprimand Scotland as well but that would only make the situation worse in his mind.

They both ignored him but slipped back into English naturally. They had a habit of diving in and out of English and French when talking since one of them is France's native language and only other language France knew and they are both fluent second languages for Scotland. It came easily to them both.

"Come on France. What's tha worse tha'll happen."

"You get taken to la Russie and I never see tu again." He replied sulkily and annoyed. Scotland smiled cockily and quoted the famous French saying.

"C'est la vie." France scowled.

His best friend was obviously not taking this seriously. He knew the red head was betting on England coming up with a decent enough reason for him to stay before night time but he was also pressuring the blonde needlessly by going drinking with Russia again, so soon after they had found him on the verge of passing out, drunk and covered in blood in Russia's arms.

He was stacking the odds against himself. Mocking the fates for fun and to see England struggle for some reason that France could only guess at. It was stupid and pointless and needlessly dangerous. What will happen if England fails? For once, he was actually wishing for his rival to win. He was annoyed too for thinking that. Scotland headed for the door, with his arm around France's shoulder, steering him.

"We're leaving England. Ye git 'til sun set to tell me why I must stay befoore I call meh boss and become independent."

"Wait! I'm coming too!" Scotland smiled that strange sadistic smile as he flicked his brother very hard in the forehead.

"Nae. Ye cannae think of a reason fer meh staying if yer drunk tah." Scotland left quickly followed by Russia with an unwilling France and slammed the hotel door on the Englishman. He was left alone in the small hotel room. England panicked.

How was he meant to think of any good reasons for Scotland not going when he was so damn worried!

**(A/N -**

**French translations!**

** Tu es fou? On ne va pas boire avec la Russie! Pourquoi voudriez-vous suggèrent même que? C'est si stupide!- Are you crazy? We are not going drinking with Russia! Why would you even suggest that? That's so stupid!**

**Ouais, je suis un peu fou et ouion va pour boire un verre de petits avec la Russie. Écoutez la France. L'Angleterre est évidemment pas de l'obtenir sans une petite aide. Il est épaisse au crâne et inutile quand il s'agit de choses comme ça. Cela aidera ... probablement ... - Yeah, I'm a little crazy and yes we are going for a small drink with Russia. Listen France. England is obviously not going to get it without a little help. He's thick-skulled and useless when it comes to things like this. This will help... probably...**

**C'est la vie. - That is life**

**I'm sorry if my French is iffy. Feel free to correct me.**

**Notice how England is thinking for reasons 'not to go' while Scotland is asking for a reason 'to stay'. It may be a subtle difference but it's very important. There can be a hundred reasons not to go (like it's raining or it's quite cold outside) but a reason to stay is different (like it is warm and comfortable in here or it's nice here). That difference is the key here!**

**Unfortunatly England is a huge tsundere so is not very good at expressing emotions etc...**

**This is heading in the fluff direction and you will be happy to know, I didn't ignore the huge requests for more fluff. I wrote the start of two or three more storys which are very fluff based. The next two one-shots are proper requests though from people who wanted a certain story. The first one isa fluff from yoong' and the second one is from my friend in real life who I will refer to as X from now on.**

**REVIEW PLEASE AND SEND IN ANY REQUESTS!)**


	41. Story 8 Chapter 10

**Questions and Snow Demons**

England paced in the room endlessly.

His brother was mocking him and making a fool of him. He saw that cocky, sadistic grin. It was a common facial expression for Scotland. It also usually meant something bad was going to happen, usually to the poor Englishman.

His brother was born a wild animal and grew into a fighter and a warrior. His country had only begun experiencing it first proper peace within itself in many millennia. Civil wars used to be common and he was constantly fighting with England and the other brothers.

Violence was natural for him.

The blonde began thinking that maybe he should just let his brother go.

Russia had been right. The brothers only fight. Maybe he would be happier if they no longer talked….

Then why did he demand that England gave him a reason? Did he secretly wish to stay?

That seemed unlikely…

Scotland had been acting a lot kinder in the last couple of years since he got his own parliament again in 1999 though. He thought that their relationship was beginning to change for the better after that. Sometimes the redhead had an outburst but it was rare now.

Under century ago was much, much worst. Scotland was nearly always moody or sadistic and he took every opportunity to beat up England as violently as possible. It had been a brutal time before 1999, Scotland was frustrated at his lack of freedom and he took it out on the blonde making the blonde try and restrict Scotland even more. It was a bad cycle.

Nowadays, he seemed more content and satisfied. But was that enough to keep his brother in the UK?

England frowned. He doubted it for some reason.

England thought more.

If that arrogant, heartless smirk was the Scotsman's most usual expression then an angry frown was his second. He got angry at strange things. Being called 'Scotch', people making fun of his kilt, being completely sober….

Little things like that.

One big reason though, may be that he does not like the fact that his own people have, generally, to leave Scotland to find work and/or seek promotion. **(A/N at end + a boast)**

England scowled at the excuse.

Maybe he could point out that his Scottish educational system would fall?

Would he accept that?

Maybe?

He texted it to Scotland. A reply came back instantly.

'Nee.'

He texted another reason. 'More of your people will be forced to emigrate.'

'Nee'

'Are you going to accept any of my reasons?'

'Aye but only if they are gud enuff'

He glared at nothing in particular.

Stupid Scotland!

Maybe he should just let Russia take him! That way he wouldn't have to deal with that bloody wanker! Bloody red head!

…

No matter how much he thought that…

He just couldn't…

For some strange reason, he could just not let his brother go like this…

Why?

They hated each other….

Right?...

He should be happy that Scotland is possibly leaving forever…

So why did he feel so crappy about it?...

**Elsewhere with the others**

Russia saw that Scotland was fed up with the poor excuses that England kept texting. They were all impersonal, country and political related things apparently.

He watched his red head slid the phone back into his pocket before turning and asking him if there was anywhere he wanted to go anywhere in particular. His red haired pet was so thoughtful and kind to him.

It seemed that France had picked his capital city as a good place to stay the night. Scotland looked happy that France had done this. Sometimes the blonde was a surprisingly very good friend.

To Russia's annoyance though, France refused to go drinking with the tall man in the end but he said he would agree to go somewhere public. (Where murdering one French man would be hard) Russia didn't know any attractions in Scotland though so he had no idea where he could go so the others discussed possibilities.

He watched the two converse intimately. He felt a twang of intense jealously directed at the unwitting Frenchman and was suddenly wishing he could just end the blonde's annoying life bloodily.

Someone soon mentioned Edinburgh castle and so they found themselves inside the famous castle.

They had gotten in for free, despite some difficulties when France was recognised as an active molester that had been kicked out repeatedly before, and now they were trooping around the ancient castle.

Russia was fascinated by the size and sights. The strange position of the aged castle built in 1130 in the middle of a busy, modern city on top of an extinct volcano was interesting and beautiful.

Scotland briefly explained the history and answered any questions on it, offering more information and detail than the tour guides.

France looked happy to be in the castle as well, though he was nearly kicked out when an attempted flirt ended badly. About 12:45 though, someone interrupted Russia's peaceful day with his potential pet red head (plus France, though Russia was plotting of how to get rid of him.) with a low gentle laugh.

The trio looked up at the height of a huge 50ft stone wall. Standing on top of it was a tall, beautiful woman with long black hair, inhumanly pale and translucent skin and red lips wearing a white kimono. She held a white paper umbrella, shielding her from the sun. She waved at them slightly.

"Konnichiwa."

She smiled a little at them, appearing rather meek and mild. Iain glared at her while the other two stared at her with their mouths agape at her beauty. France drooled slightly.

She stepped off the wall and drifted to the ground like she was snow. She didn't seem to even touch the ground, like she had no feet. She gave a short bow to them. She turned to Russia, only 1 inch shorter than him.

"It is nice to meet you again."

"Again?" The tall man had no recollection of ever meeting such a strange, enticing women.

"Yesterday while I was taking shelter in Scotland-san's home. Did you already forget my touch?" Her voice expressed a small sadness.

She stroked a hand along his arm and shots of frostiness burst into him. His eyes widened as he recognised it as the grip of the mysterious being that grabbed his shoulder the day before. The ice disappeared and he blinked as he realised that Scotland was holding her hand away from Russia.

"Oyuki, I allow sanctuary tae visiting creatures from other countries but only if they dinnae threaten meh friends and family."

Ice had travelled up his arm to his elbow, coating the dark blue hoodie he now wore with thick frost, still moving up to his shoulder. He hissed a little at the cold as it reached his vulnerable neck and his jugular vein. He threw her hand away from him and the ice melted away instantly, leaving the fabric damp.

Oyuki looked around herself suddenly as if seeing other people there. She frowned slightly as she saw dozens of other invisible fae and mythical creatures appear to watch the potential fight or defend Scotland. She tilted her head down politely, letting her long white hair fall forward.

"I apologise, Russia-san."

"You know who I am, da?"

"Hai. My species favour the domains of General Winter. I am a Yuki-onna, a Japanese snow demon." She gave another slight bow. "I travelled from Japan-san to Canada-san and decided to travel across the salty waters to this side of the world, visiting the snowy countries of this latitude." She glanced at the glaring red head and nodded at him in acknowledgement.

"Imagine my surprise though when I found a warm, wet country in the North though. I thought it would be covered in ice like Canada-san and Russia-san." She sounded truly surprised.

France rolled his eyes subtly. Scotland's weather could be warm in May and June but generally it was just in turmoil. If the weather got any more erratic, he would fear for his friend.

Scotland shrugged. "I haffa withstanding agreement with tha General courtesy tae meh mother."

Russia blinked in surprise. He knew that Moscow was on the same latitude with central Scotland but never questioned the lack of cold. It seemed obvious now.

Oyuki just hummed slightly, her beauty was still astounding. "With General Winter-sama? I understand then." She smiled more even though Scotland was still choosing to glare at her. "I'll be leaving now. I might visit you soon Russia-san."

She disappeared in a sudden flurry of snow, covering the men in white. Russia was watching Scotland who sighed huffily and crossed his arms. The white looked beautiful in his scarlet hair, highlighting how bright the red is. It melted surprisingly very slowly, gradually darkening it to the colour of deep blood.

France panicked though, distracting him from the disappearance of the gorgeous, tall woman.

"L'Ecosse! My hair! My clothes!"

"Yer bonnie France so wheesht." Scotland said with a sigh.

"Scotland."

"Aye?"

"Is what that ghost say was true? You have a deal with General Winter, da?"

"It is moor meh mother's deal than mine. I just inherited it."

"What is the deal?"

"Confidential but I can say that General Winter canne pass ova meh lands but neva live here." Scotland looked over Russia's entire height. "So ye believe in spirits and ghosts but nae fairies?"

"Da." Scotland gave a short laugh.

"Funny fer someone who was almost taken by two in tha last 24 hours."

"Hmmm?"

"Oyuki, though that was obvious and ye think she's a ghost, and Sorcha. She's a water nymph - a wraith of tha water. I think though she would be known as a rusalka in yer area though." Russia tilted his head to the side.

"Fish women?" Scotland shrugged. France glanced at Scotland.

"Are tu talking about mermaids, L'Ecosse?"

"Sorta. They live in rivers and fresh water and appear completely human though. You know – without tha tail.". France looked puzzled.

"Then why do they 'ave tails in paintings?"

"That's in tha sea. Tha ones that live in the sea have tails like fish."

"Vraiment?"

"Aye."

Russia giggled suddenly. The two turned and stared at him. Russia couldn't help it. The two had sounded so serious while talking about mere fairy tales.

"You two believe in mermaids, da?"

"Aye."

"Non."

France grinned and wrapped his arm around Scotland's shoulder in a too friendly way. He quickly removed it though after a tense smile from Russia.

"L'Ecosse 'as only believed in ze fairiez. Ohonhonhonhon. Tu would think 'e was un enfant."

"I'm aulder than ye, ye smart erse."

"Superstitious old monsieur." He said teasingly. Scotland laughed in reply.

"Cocky brat."

France opened his mouth to say another playful insult when a huge boom went off. The three spun around the see a small trail of smoke disperse in the breeze. Russia stared at it, surprised and confused, but with a wide creepy smile.

"A cannon,da?"

**(A/N - Scots are traditionally better educated than the English and so are in demand out of Scotland plus the Scottish accent is highly valued in the stock market due to the fact that 80% of people are more likely to trust you if you have a Scottish accent. Strange huh?** **Also historically many Scots, like the Irish, had to emigrate to find work. Luckily, many of emigrants went to Canada though so Scotland and the partially visible blonde are surprisingly close.**

**On another note about Scotland having a better educational system, I did very well in my exams. I got a B in Higher English, Maths, Art, Chemistry and a A in Graph Com. My school got the best Hgher results in the Highlands.**

**Scotland is very interested in fairy tales and knows loads about them. He already knows almost everything about his country's fairy tales so studies other countries. France sometimes takes an interest when it includes women though.**

**His home already hosts a dozen of fae who live in his castle so he doesn't mind if some from other countries stay as well. They usually move on after a while. There is only one rule – Do not touch Scotland or his friends and family. Normal humans are okay though.**

**Most fae and mythical creatures are harmful to normal humans but it is in their nature to be. Scotland doesn't penalise them for being themselves. He dislikes them killings or hurting normal humans but won't act to stop it. He knows it sounds cruel and heartless but he couldn't stop them all anyway. He just lets them be and protects those close to him.)**


	42. Story 8 Chapter 11

**Gamble**

England heard a cannon going off close by and jumped out of his day dream.

"A gun?"

He looked at the clock on the hotel wall.

1 o'clock.

So he must be in Edinburgh, which would explain the gun fire. It was a daily oddity, um, I mean occurrence.

It was autumn so the days were getting shorter. It now got dark between 8 and 9 now but sunset actually started about 7 or sometimes sooner depending on the weather.

He looked down a blank piece of paper in puzzlement. He had decided to list his ideas and reason for Scotland staying but had gotten distracted by his own thoughts. He was trying to decipher his strange past with Scotland.

Sure, it seemed that it was mostly just Scotland hating and hitting him while England hated and hit him back, while desperately trying to prove himself a worthy person to his brother.

But if you looked carefully and I mean _really_ carefully, the mysterious red head would occasionally perform an unexpected act that would make England wonder if his dislike for the blonde was actually just a pretence.

What an odd pretence.

He soon found himself confused and wrapped up in the past as he tried to untangle his history and Scotland's actions. It had gotten him nowhere and he still had a blank piece of paper.

He glanced at his mobile on the side of the desk. He chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip. He glanced at the clock again before grabbing the phone and calling Scotland.

**In a café in Edinburgh….**

The three were eating lunch in a café just outside the castle. France was eating a cheese baguette, Russia was eating a regular sandwich and Scotland was eating a sausage roll. Russia noted that he probably should feed his red head better food when he was his.

Scotland took his buzzing phone from his pocket. He glanced at the screen.

"It's England."

"Ton frère? What doez 'e want?"

"Dunno but I bet I can make him yell with one sentence." He grinned deviously at his friend. France smirked.

"Un word pour za uzual?"

"Deal." Scotland pressed it onto speaker and held in his hand.

'Scotland? Are you there?'

Scotland grinned smugly before answering in a fake happy, slightly high voice. "Da?"

There was a short pause before 'Screw you, you damn wanker! See if I fucking care if you go to bloody Russia and freeze to death!'

England hung up abruptly while Scotland and France laughed in unison. France wiped a tear from his eyed and leaned back in his chair.

"Zat's not fair, L'Ecosse."

"Ye neva sed it had tah be English." France did a fake pout while he removed the money from his pocket.

"Oui. Zat is true." He held up the notes. "100 euro."

"Meh country so meh currency." France pouted for real this time as he took out £100 and handed it to Scotland. The pound was worth more than the euro so £100 cost more.

The phone buzzed again and Scotland opened it and held it to his ear. "Hey England." He said cheerfully.

"Och, nuffin. I jus' made a wee bit of cash."

"Oh _that_…. Fer shits and giggles." He smirked slightly.

"So ye git a decent reason yet?" He listened a bit before giving a small grunt that sounded neither like a positive or a negative.

He suddenly rolled his eyes slightly before putting his phone down.

"L'Ecosse?"

"Meh brother is an eejit." He said with a shrug.

France laughed a little though it sounded uneasy. "He didn't 'ave any reasons, non?"

"Nee."

Russia beamed brightly. The red head's brother was not coming up with any reasons now. The man with crimson hair was basically his.

**Back with England in the hotel room….**

Damn, fucking, red haired asshole of a GIT!

This was bloody serious!

England crossed his arms angrily. He couldn't believe that Scotland had purposely tried to piss him off…. FOR MONEY!

He had phoned back afterwards – just to double check he was alright though…

Scotland sounded fine, if a little disappointed for a lack of a reason. So he did want England to come up with a reason but he wanted England to work for it….

He bit his bottom lip in thought. That was troublesome. He was usually so good at puzzles too… He was the best of crosswords and word searches. But then again, they involved logic and English.

Scotland didn't….

He had tried that.

Listing all the political and economical ways that staying in the UK could benefit Scotland. He refused all of them.

Hours passed again and still England could not figure out what Scotland wanted him to say.

**With Scotland and co. again…..**

Hours passed for Scotland, Russia and, despite Russia's attempts to scar the blonde away, France as well.

It was just after 4 o'clock when it happened. Russia was smiling and watching France and Scotland argued playfully over something trivial. He did enjoy a little conflict after all. Plus it was only about two hours until sunset then he could take his red head home with him.

Suddenly something came whizzing out of nowhere at Scotland's head.

Russia watched in astonishment as the red head moved his head backwards, dodging the object with pure instinct and luck. He didn't seem aware of the unconscious movement until after it had happened.

The Scotsman blinked in surprised while France stared at him with his mouth agape.

The three men turned their heads to see what it was that nearly hit Scotland. A throwing knife was solidly wedged in the stone wall.

"Whit tha?..."

Russia paled noticeably.

Knifes meant….

Another knife flew.

Scotland stepped out of the way consciously this time, turning his head to try and catch sight of the thrower. He looked more surprised than scared while France was still in shock and Russia was shaking in fear.

Two knifes came this time. Scotland grabbed France's collar and pulled him forward into his chest, leaning back at the same time. The knives nearly hit the two men, gliding just past France's back.

France's mind finally realised what was happening and he panicked.

The knives kept coming, always avoiding Russia, so Scotland kept moving himself and France out of the way of the projectiles. The beige haired man watched as the two almost danced. Scotland kept tugging and pushing the bewildered, scared blonde out of danger while barely avoiding it himself.

Russia noted, at the very back of his head, that the Scotsman was regrettably putting France's safety first before his own. If his red haired pet was injured, then the blonde was going to be painfully beaten.

The tall man was amazed though. The Scotsman seemed to be using mainly instinct, mixed in with experience, to dodge the knives that came from many different directions.

After a couple of minutes, Scotland suddenly pulled France behind him. His hand few out, catching one of the flying knifes in his hand.

Without missing a beat, he sent the knife back in the direction it came from.

There was a screech as a girl leaped from the path, revealing herself.

Russia screamed in fear, making the other two flinched.

It was her!

His crazy younger sister!

Belarus!

He cowered behind Scotland and France like they were suddenly a shield. France recognised the pretty girl with long hair in a dark blue dress while Scotland had no idea who she was.

"Brother!" She screamed.

Scotland glanced at France questionably, who pointed behind to Russia who seemed close to tears now. Scotland nodded slightly, realising that Russia and the woman were siblings.

"Brother!" She screamed again. "Why are you here in this miserable wet island when you can stay with me?"

"Oi! It's nae always miserable." **(A/N – He didn't defend the fact that it isn't always wet – lol)**

Her eyes narrowed as they left Russia and found the other two. She hissed angrily.

"It's your fault… You are distracting brother!"

"Whit?" He sounded confused. He had only met Russia twice and one time he was drunk beyond belief. France paled.

"L'Ecosse…" He whispered quickly. "We should leave!"

A knife flew at France. Scotland pushed France's head down. Belarus was looking back at Russia again, muttering demonically and loudly.

"Marryme!Marryme!Marryme!Marryme!Marryme!"

He glanced at France questionably again, who once again pointed to the terrified Russia. Scotland raised an eyebrow in surprise while France nodded.

Russia suddenly grabbed onto the red head, tugging him towards him. Belarus spat in anger at the gesture.

The tall man shook more in fear before suddenly turning and running. He kept his grip on the red head's arm.

France didn't matter. Russia would grin if he died.

He just wanted to be as far away from his sister as possible. And if possible, his red head with him as well.

After a while he stopped to catch his breath.

He turned to check on Scotland but instead saw a wheezing France.

He blinked in surprise as the red faced Frenchman gulped in oxygen.

This must be some mistake Russia thought. He was sure he had grabbed the red head but now he had this useless blonde.

Blondes were common and boring. That's why he stalks China in a panda suit. That's why he captured Prussia during WWII. That's why he wants to have Scotland too.

They were unique….

Interesting….

Special…

Collectable…

His precious red head must still be back with his crazy sister.

He tightened his grip angrily on France's wrist, who gasped in pain.

It was this annoying blonde's fault! He stopped Russia from carrying off the red head last night, he got in his way from being alone with the red again and he was the reason the red head was now at the mercy at his younger sister!

He was going to wipe this worthless blonde from the face of the earth so he would no longer prevent Russia from gaining access to his dear red head.

**(A/N – Russia actually wants Scotland for purely shallow reasons. AKA – His hair colour. **

**Did you ever notice many blonde there are in Hetalia. It's like they're breeding or something. By 2050, the world will be completely blonde or something at this rate. XD**

**OMG! OMG! OMG! – I have never been this late before! I'm so sorry for taking so long to get this out! I bet some of you thought I had died! I nearly did though. I have had dozens of university open days! My next one is Friday, plus a couple after that, and school has just started again so it's going to continue being a slow up-date for a while….**

**Sorry! Again… For being so slow…**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	43. Story 8 Chapter 12

**(I'm in a dark mood because it's All-Hallows-Eve and I'm watching horror films…. So expected slight M for dark!Scotland, mild violence and threatened rape/murder…. I did this for you X so shut it and quit telling me to add sex! It's meant to be a T dammit!) **

Belarus had watched her brother grab that disgusting, slutty red haired freak.

How could he like him more than her! She was his beloved! They were going to get married and maybe have a child which would exactly like him.

They would live together forever and ever and ever and ever and ever!

But now that filthy man was in her way.

It was simple though; once he was gone, she and her big brother could unite and become one.

When her brother turned to run, she prepared to sprint after him, only to stop in surprise. The red head pulled the idiotic French blondie over and replaced his hand in Russia's grip with the blonde's. France's face showed shock as he was dragged away by Russia instead of Scotland.

The two were gone in a flash though before he could protest.

The red suddenly turned to her and she flinched internally at his gaze. Despite the fiery, bright green, the glare was ice cold.

She gritted her teeth and glared back at him coldly. She was infamous for having a cold, emotionless exterior (unless Russia was involved).

The two stared at each other for a while.

She noticed that no humans had appeared. They were in one of the winding alley that was rarely used except by locals for short cuts. She considered it lucky that no one would see her murder this ho so no one would arrest her.

Belarus felt herself grow impatient, as she thought about chasing her brother.

Suddenly Scotland turned his back and faced the wall where the throwing knifes had lodged themselves. He grabbed one but the handle, wiggling it a little while pulling until it came out.

The beige head girl felt herself tense until he tossed it to the side lazily.

She didn't watch where it landed but she heard the clank.

He repeated this with two or three more knifes, just pulling them out of the wall before throwing them away.

Finally Belarus snapped and threw another knife at the back of his head.

He side-stepped the knife before removing it from the wall as well. Instead of just dropping it though, he turned back around. He held the knife loosely, in a non-threatening way, but she still didn't relax.

Instead she pulled out another knife.

He began walking towards her, swinging the knife lazily in a natural motion for walking. He stopped once he was in about 10 feet of her and tossed the thing at Belarus's feet gently.

It bounced to a stop by her feet and she stared at it, slightly puzzled but mainly pissed off. He was underestimating her.

"Gah away." He said simply in a slightly commanding voice.

She glared at him, tightening her grip on the knife.

This man was distracting brother….

He was keeping brother away from her!...

It was all his fault!...

And now he was ordering her around!

She screamed suddenly. "No! Give me back big brother!"

She raised her knife and lunged at him, swinging it down.

"I'm not leaving until you are dead and big brother is mine!"

He pushed her body to the side and using her momentum, spun her around until her back was against the wall of the ally way. He grabbed the knife in her hand by the blade.

His palm and fingers was cut opened and blood gushed out, running down his arm, but he ignored it.

He held it at the same height as her head. His other hand rested on the other side of her head, leaning against the wall.

Belarus suddenly realised how close Scotland was. She was trapped against the wall by his body. Though he wasn't touching her at all, she felt pinned to the spot.

She looked up and her eyes widened.

He was grinning.

Not in the same cute and childish way that Russia innocently smiled when he was inflicting pain on those pitiful fools. (Belarus's view of Russia….)

This red head on the other hand was smiling so happily and madly that he looked manic.

Insane.

Crazy.

Her first instinct is to struggle and escape.

It would be easy.

He was not holding her or even touching her. If she let go of the knife and ducked under his arm, she would be gone before he could react.

She froze though when his hand suddenly moved from the wall. It travelled through the air and hovered over her face.

She glared with wide scared eyes, past his open hand to his eyes. They looked excited as they glowed brightly in the dimmed ally. He was happy!

"If I closed me hand on yer mouth, I could stop yer scream…"

His hand moved closer, barely a millimetre from her pale skin.

"If I closed meh hand over yer entire face, I could suffocate ye…"

She blinked in surprise. She was confused, trying to understand exactly what this red head was saying. Was he going to kill her?

"I could beat ye until ye were haff deed…"

She gulped discreetly. He was threatening her! How dare he! She continued glaring refusing to show any fear to him. She wouldn't let him win.

"I could take yer knife and slit yer throat easily…"

She continued glaring with cold eyes and a blank face.

Scotland felt impressed. He was simply trying to terrify her into leaving him alone, using fear and threats to manipulate her. He wasn't planning on touching her.

Though deep down, he knew he was enjoying it a little….

"I could rape ye here and no one would ken…"

She felt a bead of swat form on her brow. Surely he was kidding. Right? He didn't appear to be lying.

The red head's sadistic grin widened when he saw the brief twinge of fear. He continued in a low, threatening voice.

"I could dee whit ever I want… And ye couldnae dee anything aboot it…"

Belarus pressed body back into the wall. Her grip on the knife tightened.

This sadistic man was insane and cruel!

"I wonder what your big brother would think? Knowing that you are already taken…"

The mention of Russia broke her from his trance. She snarled angrily and slashed her knife forward.

Scotland leaned back in surprised. The knife became imbedded in his hand.

He growled and ripped it out of his palm.

He slammed it into the wall by Belarus's head.

He gripped his bloodied hand into a fist and threw it at her face.

She closed her eyes in shock. After a minute, she opened her eyes to see the fist clenched, centimetres from her nose. The Scotsman voice sounded strained like he was trying to control himself.

"Murder, sexual assault, violence, stealing… It's so simple…"

Suddenly the hand disappeared and the heat from his nearby body was gone.

He was half way down the alley way by the time she realised that he wasn't going to punch her or hurt her in anyway.

"Gah away. Yer tae easy."

She was tempted to chase after him for revenge purposes.

He had humiliated her!

Threatened her!

Tried to use her brother against her!

"Yer brother will be returned tae ye later." was the last thing he called back to her as he disappeared around the corner.

**(A/N – Yeah… I know… Intense and really dark for Scotland. X and I love dark!hetalia so I did this with him in mind.**

**Just in case you are confused – Scotland wasn't actually going to touch Belarus. In fact – there is no skin to skin contact between them at all in the chapter. He strongly disagrees with rape and prostitution and would never actually rape someone… **

**However, he is not above threatening it….**

**This is the photo which I based Belarus's and Scotland's fight on. I don't know how I feel about this pairing… I guess I don't mind it but I don't love it either. It's a crack pairing but crack has never put me off.**

**www . tumblr . com / photo / 1280 / 7392252564 / 1 / tumblr _ lnx44rK4Qx1qk5x96**

**Also since I am curious to whom they pair Scotland in their own head, I'm setting up another poll once the current poll is closed. Remember the current poll will be closed when story 8 and 15 are finished.**

**I also want to know your favourite crack pairing. TELL ME YOUR FAVOURITE CRACK PAIRING IN A REVIEW OR PM! Mine is PrussiaXEngland!)**


	44. Story 8 Chapter 13

**How do you fix a red haired Scotsman? With a metal pipe, of course.**

He had messed with her head.

Scotland knew that he might have gone too far at some point but he didn't really care. He didn't take kindly to being threatened and he took it even less well when one of his few true friends was threatened.

He followed his nose carefully.

He mainly followed France's very familiar scent – sex, fresh bread, heavy rose perfume and other processed smells – though his natural smell was mainly lilies, which Scotland preferred. He didn't really understand why France wore perfumes and used scented soaps and oils when he had such an appealing aroma to start off with.

He could also smell the less familiar Russia with vodka, sunflower, snow and blood mingled with France's.

Eventually he caught up to them in another alley.

It was easy.

This was his capital after all.

However it wasn't a pleasant situation….

Russia had his pipe raised to slam into France's head. The edges of the alley had cracked bricks, dents and chunks missing showing that Russia had been swinging around his pipe a lot with a powerful full force.

It seemed France had been nimble and smart enough to dodge the blows so far but his luck had run out. He was trapped between a bin, a wall and Russia with his pipe. There was no way to escape the next hit. He was dead once that pipe smacks his skull.

Russia smiled slightly, swinging the pipe at the blonde's head.

It was stopped mid-swing by a hand.

Francis stared in relief at his old friend.

"L'Ecosse!"

Scotland pulled on the pipe so it was slightly farther away from the Frenchman's face.

He wasn't strong enough to remove it from Russia's grip though.

The Russian had the same strength as America. To be honest, he doubted he could beat Russia without getting soundly thumped himself or losing.

"Can ye lower tha pipe?"

Russia looked at him in surprise. He hadn't really expected the red head to suddenly appear. He looked away guiltily.

France took the opportunity to shoot from the wall to Scotland. Russia lowered the pipe slightly before stabbing it past to Scotland's head at France.

His eyes widened as Scotland had somehow moved the blonde out of harm's way again. He gave a small frown before smiling widely.

"Please move, my dear red head."

"Nae."

Russia tilted his head to the side. "Why? Do you not wish to become one with Russia?"

"Please leave." He asked in a quiet voice that did not seem meek or weak in any way whatsoever.

Though he said 'please', as habit from years of England forcing manners and 'gentleman-ness' on him, he did not sound very polite when he said it.

Russia blinked in surprise. "Leave?"

"Aye. I dinnae mind being polite tae visitors, even if they try tae carry meh off, trespass in private bits of meh hoose or endanger me but I draw tha line at threatening me friend's lives."

Russia tilted his head to the side as if confused. "Why? My little snow bunny is happy with me. You can be too."

France spoke in a shaking voice, while peeking his head over Scotland's tall shoulder. "D-doesn't Le Prusse live his f-frère?"

Russia stared scarily at France with a wide, tight smile. He didn't like being contradicted, even if it was true. France gulp and his voice came out as a whisper as he continued.

"Maybe L'Ecosse is happier with his frère too?"

'Kolkolkolkol~' A thick, shadowy violet mist appeared over Russia.

"Ack!" France ducked back behind his red haired pet as the dark purple aura began to flood the alley.

Russia thought violent thoughts at the French man. How dare that pervy blonde use his adorable crimson fox as a shield? Why does his pet continue insisting that they were friends when it was clear that the Frog was not good enough?

France quivered. He was regretting provoking Russia now, though he was just pointing out the truth. Russia twisted the pipe in one hand.

"Ah… I see… My red head is confused." He watched the Scots man intensely. "Maybe if I hit some sense into him, he will feel better, da. I will fix my red head with my metal pipe. Then we can get rid of _that_ annoyance and leave for Russia."

He gestured at France before lifting the pipe.

The pipe swung in a sweeping circle.

The two ducked as the pipe cracked into the wall. It echoed ominously through the alley way. It lodged itself deeply in the brick work.

Russia pulled at the pipe with one hand. It wobbled but remained still. He gripped it with two hands and tugged it out. It came out of the wall, crumbling the surrounding bricks. He was still smiling though.

The tall man quickly swung the pipe again.

This time Scotland tried to catch it. The pipe slammed into his palm and a sickening crunch sounded out. The red head gritted his teeth from the pain and gripped the metal pole tight with both hands.

He tugged hard leaning back with all his weight.

Russia swung the pipe to the side and France watched in shock as his friend was dragged forward.

The Russian forced the pipe and red head back into the stone wall.

Scotland's eyes widened and he gasped slightly as he felt agony burst into his back. His head collided with the wall as well, temporarily shocking his body.

He released the pipe out of a natural bodily response.

His body was still recovering from the large blow to his back so his legs were weak. He slumped to the ground, his head lulling slightly at first as if he had lost consciousness. He quickly lifted his face to glare at Russia with bared teeth.

The beige haired man reached forward with a gloved hand to grab him when a body blocked him.

France stood between the two defensively and facing Russia. Despite sometimes being a coward, France could be very brave and strong when he wanted to, when he had something to protect or achieve.

"L'Ecosse! Are you okay?" His first priority was Scotland's well-being.

"Aye." He muttered back, shifting and testing his body to see if anything important was broken.

France shifted his entire focus to Russia now. His second priority was stopping Russia from taking his best friend.

The taller man was glaring with a wide, tense smile, oozing a purple aura. That filthy blonde was in his way again!

France didn't back away though. Russia tightened his grip on the pipe which the blonde watched warily, ready to defend him and Scotland from it.

Russia's lips twitched as he swung the back of his hand across the French man's face.

The blonde had been so focused on the pipe that he hadn't seen the back hand coming. He staggered from the power of the surprise blow.

Russia raised his pipe again above his head. It came down at a high force.

Scotland suddenly appeared in front of the blonde with his arms in a X. The pipe slammed into them and Scotland crouched to absorb some of the blow.

Russia blinked, surprised again by the red head's sudden appearance again.

He wasn't prepared for Scotland to suddenly extend his legs and push forward, using the momentum to push the taller man off balance backwards.

The Russian moved his arms out to the side for balance, leaving his chest and head open. The Scotsman didn't aim for those areas though.

He suddenly kicked the beige haired man's left knee hard, forcing him off balance more.

_Your legs are yer weak points. If I were ta end up in a fight with ye, I would aim fer the knees and trip ye up_.

His eyes widened as he realised that Scotland was aiming for the weak points he had listed a few days ago. The man aimed for his legs again and the Russian was so close to toppling.

The red head threw his hands into the taller man's chest to push him over the edge. The Russian flew backwards, grabbing Scotland's arm. The two fell to the ground.

_Ya have a lot of build up power but yer fighting style probably requires a lot of movement. Ye wonnae be able to fight once doon._

Russia's pipe skidded from his hand when Scotland's wallet and phone fell from his pocket. All the items landed reasonably far away from the two nations on the ground.

Scotland was right about Russia being unable to fight on the ground, so instead he was holding the red head down so neither could fight.

France leaped forward to aid his friend. He grabbed Scotland's arm and tried to pull him from Russia's grip.

The beige hair man was pinning Scotland and his arms to his chest and squeezing him hard. It appeared like he was trying to press the air from his body so that he eventually collapses.

The Scotsman was kicking violently, trying to free himself before that happened.

A stray kick sent France backwards and away from the fight again. Scotland's foot did not hit him hard but it had caught him at an awkward angle, making him stumble back.

He landed on his bum gently.

Quiet electric bagpipes distracted him.

He saw Scotland's phone buzzing beside his foot.

He picked it up and held it to his ear frantically.

"Angleterre! Help him!"

**(A/N – The title is weird and only refers to one line. I was lazy and I'm sick!**

**I still feel that I am bad at fight scenes so just imagine everything.**

**France is exceptionally good at pissing Russia off. However, he wants to protect Scotland with all his might. Though Scotland and France don't always seem that close, the truth is that they are closer than brothers and lovers.**

**They were exclusive boyfriends a few times in the past; the longest time being about 5 decades. Even today, they are usually friends with benefits unless one has a girlfriend or a lover. They still sometimes share an exclusive relationship for a few weeks or months.**

**They are a cute, very close couple, though they sometimes seem so different.**

**Review please! They make me feel better and healthier.)**


	45. Story 8 Chapter 14

**The Rules of being a Gentleman**

"Angleterre! Help him!" France's panicked voice came over the phone.

England blinked in surprised. He had expected his brother's annoyed voice.

"F-France?"

"Le Russie 'as gone off ze deep end!"

"What?"

"'e 'as attacked us!"

"Is Scotland alright?" England asked without really thinking; he had been worrying about the red head all day. Normally his first reaction would to angrily rant at how it was the red head's fault.

"Uh…" France's voice came across unsure.

Finally after a short pause, the blonde's voice reappeared. "'e is in un tight spot pour now…"

England heard lots of sudden movement and arguments with shouting.

There was a sudden clatter though.

England's eyes widened. "Scotland? Frog?"

Only silence replied.

The blonde paused, trying to hear the tell-tale dial-tone of a hanged up phone. He strained his ears before he suddenly heard a heavy Scottish accent.

"Eng…nd? Ye sti… there?"

"Scotland?"

"Ay… Haff ye tho…ht of a reason …et?"

The phone crackled badly, cutting words out, presumably from being dropped.

However England was more annoyed that Scotland was still asking for a reason. Here he was, worried sick for once about his stupid, irresponsible older brother, while Scotland was still messing around with that idiotic bet.

Doesn't that bastard realise how anxious England was!

Ah!...

England blinked in surprised.

Did England actually ever say that?

He and his brother did have a complex relationship; it was a strange mixture of brotherly love, mild dislike and teasing.

Then there were other negative things; like guilt, jealousy, sadness and anger that also made up pieces of their relationship.

England would feel guilty about ways he mistreated his Scotland; Scotland would feel jealous of England's relationships with other countries; England would feel sad when Scotland acted uncaring and Scotland would be angry when England belittled him.

However, despite the hate from their past shadowing them, they loved each other and would even once in a blue moon show it.

Sometimes Scotland would pick him up from a pub when he was too drunk to drive; sometimes England would help Scotland with his paperwork; sometimes Scotland would not bully him; sometimes England would let the red head smoke despite their leader's orders.

Yet this was always a muted agreement.

A silently arranged relationship of mutual dislike and love.

Made because England is too embarrassed to say what he feels and Scotland uses actions far more often than words.

But now the red head wanted a vocal confirmation from the blonde.

England felt his face warm up slightly. He hated saying what he really felt; it was just so embarrassing! Why would Scotland want him to say it out loud anyway?

He had to know that England was so anxious for him! Didn't he?...

"Scotland? You do know that I…. I… I…"

England felt himself turn a deep scarlet.

"… That I… I…"

Come on! He was once the fucking British Empire! Saying something so simple should be easy!

"…I… I…"

He took in a shaky breath before quickly spurt out.

"Iworryaboutyou!" The line crackled slightly.

"Sor…y? T… phone isn… wor...ing rig…t! What d… y…u say?"

England rubbed his temple in stress.

"I worr~" Suddenly he was cut off by a yell.

Then the line went dead.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Now there are certain rules to being a gentleman that England had learned over the years.

England wasn't by nature polite, posh and civil. No, it was something he had to work at because he chose this life style. The truth was he was more like Scotland personality wise; a delinquent.

However the red head lacked the shame and dignity that the English man had.

He didn't care if he woke up in a strange place with strange people.

He didn't care if he came to work, beaten to a bloody pulp, still drunk or hung over.

He didn't care how much trouble he got into and with whom.

He didn't care what people thought of his life style because to him it was his life.

Scotland only really cared what he and a few other people thought of his self. For the most, he did not give a fuck what others thought.

However England cared what others thought.

He wanted to be respected. He didn't want to be thought of as a drunk or a trouble maker like Scotland. He wanted to be thought of as more than just a punk or a delinquent in the eye of the public. And for the most he was highly successful.

There were occasions where he would lose his temper or get drunk but for the most part he was a gentleman.

One of the rules which he followed to achieve this feat was _'Always act poise under stress or pressure; do not rush and operate calmly in order to maintain your dignity. Composure is key.'_

However currently England was breaking that rule.

He was running frantically down the streets of Edinburgh, asking people if they had seen a red haired man with two blondes. In his rush, he had mostly forgotten his manners and lots of the answers were 'no's.

It had appeared no one had seen Scotland.

Until he had finally came across this one man.

"Och, aye? Ye looking fer Iain?"

"Yes!"

"Aye, I saw him gahing doon tha stre~ Hey wait! Dee I ken ye?"

"Just tell which street he went down!"

"Aye! I dee ken ye! Yer tha English yob that keeps bothering Iain!"

"Yes and I am looking for him!"

"Why tha fuck should I tell ye?"

"Because a very tall Russian is trying to fucking kidnap him and take him to fucking Moscow, you bloody twat!"

"Oi! Who ye calling a bloody twat! I'm gonnae fu~"

He was silenced by the blonde grabbing his collar and pulling on it hard.

"Unless you tell me where he is, git, I am going to personally blame you for my bloody brother's kidnapping and I am going to make your life a living hell. You understand me, you bastard? Now which street did my fucking brother, Iain, go down?"

He broke another rule of being a gentleman.

'_Always be polite; even to complete gits or people whom tax your patience. And don't lose your temper and swear at them either.'_

The Scottish bloke just glared at the Englishman though, refusing to speak. A woman tsked from behind the two.

"Gawds sake, William. Just tell tha mannie where Iain and his friends went. Yer gonnae cause a scene and git arrested at this rate."

The female walked into view, swinging her hips slightly with her arms crossed. The man, William, nodded slowly before pointing at an ally way.

"Doon there, ye git." He muttered mutinously, glancing a glare at the woman but not confronting him.

England's delinquent side was tempted to stop for a moment to mock him for being intimidated by a girl but he resisted. He had learnt the hard way that Scottish women were at a different standard and angering them led to bad endings for all evolved.

After all James V was carried across Dreel Burn by a young Scottish woman when he didn't want to get his stockings wet.

They were strong women in other words.

He sprinted down the alley way, cursing the suit he was wearing. The fabric was too constricting to run properly.

It was a casual suit; designed for small meetings and general work, not chasing stupid drunks and dangerous Russians.

He paused when he came to a part of the winding ally way.

There were knifes everywhere. The majority were lodged in the wall but some had been removed and discarded to the ground. There were still holes in the old wall from the blades.

He gulped slightly when he saw a hand print made of blood. It was slightly smudged but still fresh.

He walked over to it and held his hand just above it.

France's hands were roughly the same size as England's though his finger tips were about a quarter of a centimetre longer. The hand print couldn't be his though as the palm was fair large and the fingers quite a bit longer.

He thought about Russia's hands. The palm size would roughly be the same as would the finger length so it might be. However the fingers on this hand print were slender, unlike Russian large, wide fingers.

Scotland on the other hand had a large palm with long, slim fingers. His hand would fit this print.

It was his hand that was covered in blood against this wall.

Beside his print was a bloodied knife.

The distance between the two was about a shoulder's length, like someone was standing between the knife and his hand. The person who had the hand print would also be probably holding the knife; judging by the way the print was positioned.

That means that the person against the wall was probably being threatened by Scotland with a knife and blood on his hand.

Then the reason why the hand print was smudged was because Scotland probably pushed himself off of the wall after embedding the knife in the wall beside the victim's head.

England glanced at the ground and noticed drops of blood about a foot away from the wall, where Scotland would have been standing.

He wondered who the blood actually belong too.

He also wondered about the knife's origins. He removed one of the other non-bloodied ones from the wall to examine it.

He knew Scotland usually had one hidden dagger somewhere but these were small and light, unlike Scotland's. Plus there were so many of them. They reminded him of throwing knifes.

He doubted France would use them or even Russ~

…

Ah, Belarus, Russia's younger sister… She uses knifes like these… Which meant she was also here.

But then his scenario with Scotland threatening someone wouldn't make sense…

How would Scotland threaten Belarus?

He paused and tried to picture it before deciding his brother was just bat shit crazy enough for it to work.

Though it could have gone either way.

Belarus and Scotland were probably about equally crazy and scary when they wanted to be…

He sighed worriedly and glanced down the alley way.

Now he had to be faster if Belarus was involved.

He resumed his sprint down the twisting alley.

Moments later though, he bumped into someone.

A woman.

Really, this was just silly.

Another rule!

Broken!

'_Never harm or upset a female; whether by accident or on purpose. It's a gentleman's responsibility to protect them. Even if they are bat-shit crazy or otherwise.'_

Though it appeared this woman was already upset. Belarus glared daggers at him as the English man began stuttering out an apology.

"B-Belarus? I must apologi~"

"Shut it! Where's your slutty red haired brother?" England gulped as a knife was suddenly in his face.

"I d-don't know! I'm looking for him too!"

She hissed angrily before storming back in the direction of the area with the knives. All the way she was muttering loudly like a mad woman.

"That fucking whore! Stealing my big brother away from me! As soon as I find him, we're going to see who is the one who is going to get raped! Then me and big brother can be togeth~" She disappeared from sight.

Wait, did she mention something about raping Scotland amongst the normal insane babble about marrying Russia? What the fuck happened? God – his brother is in so much trouble…

It was so troubling to be worrying about such a delinquent brother who attracts trouble and danger.

Now really, how on earth did he piss Belarus off so much that she wants to bloody rape him!

Seriously!

Even China and America never made Belarus this angry and they had both slept with Russia!

Okay so now he had two things to do.

First he had to save Scotland and France from Russia and second he had to find them before Belarus.

There was a third thing if you counted the fact he was going to kill his idiotic brother at the end of this entire fiasco for being a git.

He heard some noises now, meaning he was close!

He suddenly rounded a corner and saw…

**(A/N – Belarus isn't actually planning to rape Scotland; just kill him in the most painful way she can think of. She's just saying that because Scotland was threatening it. She is still saving herself for Russia etc…**

**However she is completely lost because she has never been to Scotland and Edinburgh can be very confusing, especially its alley ways.**

**Wow – this was written quickly! I feel so random with my writing speed at times… Sometimes I can write a chapter in a day and sometimes in a month. Wow – you guys must be real patient with me to still be reading this.**

**I was honestly so happy (and kinda surprised) when I got all those reviews. Honestly I love you guys so much for sticking with such an awkward person like me. Plus I have my bad attitude problem, my temper, my laziness, my Scottish-ness and many other traits.**

**That mention about the king being carried by a young woman across a small river called Dreel Burn is totally true. It happened in Anstruther in Fife, Scotland. The king was in disguise, visiting parts of his kingdom to check up on it. However he abandoned that notion when he had to cross water because he wanted to keep his socks dry. So he told a poor, young woman to carry him across! Then he paid her a single gold coin for it! She then offered him a benison (which is like a blessing) of **

'**May your purse naer be toom,**

**And your horn aye in bloom.' **

**which has strong sexual cognations to it. In fact it inspired the beginning of a sex club called the Beggar's Bension in Anstruther, which even opened branches in Glasgow. The club started in the early 1730s and was dissolved in 1836. **

**So remember this – Scottish woman are incredibly strong, accept payment for work and don't mind being or acting sexy, even to a king. (This is reflected in my fem!Scotland by the way. Strong, sexy and just a little bit slutty.) **

**And yes – I am a total feminist. Girl power, bitches! :P**

**Scotland and England are very similar while also being very different at the same time. It's actually quite funny in a strange cosmic sort of way. They are both delinquents who like trouble but England is also a posh gentleman while Scotland is more of a soldier.**

**And it turns out England does worry about Scotland cause he does love the stubborn red head.**

**And this also means that this story will be ending soon. I feel nostalgic yet happy that it is finally, finally over!**

**Read and Review!)**


	46. Story 8 Chapter 15

**6 lies at Sunset**

Scotland's senses were on far-too-high-alert.

His pulse felt too fast, his heart beat was too loud and the colours around him were too bright.

The reason why his senses were so hyper was because currently he was being choked. His lungs burned intensely, begging for oxygen. The fire bursting through his body was mixed adrenaline as he tried to struggle and fight.

Normally in a fight he had slightly more control over his senses, though they were usually greatly heightened, but the primal fear of dying from being strangled was driving them wild.

He could hear noises and sounds he usually ignored or blocked off to make cities more tolerable; all blending together into one large cluttered buzz in his ear. His good hearing was always a distinct disadvantage in places like this. It's why he preferred sleeping in the quiet country side so he could rest better; then he could visit the cities during the day when he didn't care about noise so much.

The smells were crashing into his nose were maximised as well. He could smell his blood on his hand from Belarus's knife, he could smell France's fear, he could smell Russia's determination and he could smell people passing in the street which was just up ahead. The city's walls were crushing him with that unique, gritty smell that wasn't pleasant but also not entirely off putting.

His eyes were taking in small details, like the colour of the bricks, France on a phone and the single cloud high above his head. They were enhanced and brightened until they hurt.

However, the shapes were becoming vague and the colours were fuzzing into each other as more seconds pass and his body loss more air.

He was aware that he may have kicked France at some point but he was too panicked to think about it.

Dammit! He could feel his motions slowing down as he slowly run out of air. If he didn't figure out how to get Russia's arms away from his chest, he will pass out soon.

"'e is in un tight spot pour now…" He heard France say.

Scotland chuckled, wheezing for air. Having a sense of humour in a time like this seemed silly to most but it helped him.

The laugh had surprised the Russian making him slacken his hold by about half a centimetre. That was all the red head needed.

Despite having board shoulders and a wide chest; he was generally a rather slender/scrawny looking guy. Unless he flexed, his muscles appeared slim against his arms. When his muscles were flexed though, it showed he was actually strong and his muscles are quite big despite being hidden.

However, when relaxed, he was skinny again. His body went lax, widening the gap slightly, and he suddenly shoved his foot into ground, giving him momentum. He pressed his entire weight forward, pushing Russia's arms away.

He wasn't as quick as he could have been, lacking oxygen in his body to move properly.

When he was free, he gasped up air. Taking loads of deep breaths, he stumbled forward, still slightly dizzy. He crashed back onto the ground again though when Russia grabbed his leg.

He glared back at the taller man.

"Oi! Ger oof!"

"Nyet!"

"I sed let gah!"

"Nyet! Nyet! Nyet!"

The two shouted at each other in an argument.

The Scotsman sudden kicked the hand hard and he was freed once again.

He made to stand but Russia dove up from the ground and latched onto his waist. The two fell forward and onto France who was still on the phone.

The phone fell to the ground and the plastic covering cracked.

France ignored it when he saw Russia was clawing at Scotland, trying to pull him back and wrap his arms around him again. His super strength was winning over Scotland's; however the red head was struggling violently.

France rushed over to help Scotland again before it was too late. France helped Scotland to his feet, kicking Russia away.

The Slavic country tried to grab the red head again but instead got the blonde. Russia growled in annoyance, trying to push the Frenchman out of the way. However France was stubborn.

Meanwhile Scotland had picked up the phone, kneeling down on the ground.

"England? Ye still there?"

"Scotland?" The red head could hear England over the phone perfectly but he could tell that his voice probably crackled to England by his tone.

"Aye. Haff ye thought of a reason yet?" Curious to see if that was why he had phoned.

There was only silence in return. Had the phone cut off?

"Scotland? You do know that I…. I… I…"

The red head's ears perked up.

"… That I… I…"

Was the phone on England's side not working as well now?

"…I… I…"

Scotland glanced over his shoulder and saw Russia jump away from France suddenly. He wondered what the tall man was up to until he saw Russia reach for the pipe.

"Iworryaboutyou!"

He heard England hurriedly say in the background.

He blinked, hearing it perfectly but not quite believing that he had actually gotten England to say it aloud. Maybe his phone's speaker had stopped working…

"Sorry? This phone isn't working right! What did you say?"

He was so focused on the phone call suddenly, that he missed the moment when Russia had retrieved his pipe again.

"I worr~"

Suddenly France yelled a warning.

Scotland ducked but the pipe collided with the phone, smashing it into pieces. Russia stood over the crouching red head now, pointing his pipe at him.

"Become one with Russia, da?"

"Nae." Russia frowned.

Suddenly he smiled widely again as he placed the pipe under the red head's chin and tilted his face up so they were staring face to face. The tall man leaned forward.

"You have no choice, comrade."

He glanced at France who was on his feet again and looked ready to attack. "Do not move. If you come closer, I'll knock his head off, da." He ordered the blonde country.

He turned back to the red haired country. "You will be one with Russia."

"Nyet." Scotland said calmly one of the only Russian words he knew.

"Nyet?"

"Well, yer clearly nae understanding meh when I say nae. So once agen – Nyet. I'm nae becoming part of Russia." Russia narrowed his eyes while smiling tightly. "Anaeway, I cannae."

Russia looked taken back at the sudden comment. "Da, you can. You said you would quit UK at sunset."

"Aye, if me eejit brother cannae give meh a reason that I like."

"Da." Russia said pleased.

"Well, he jus' did." Russia suddenly looked very puzzled. "Oi! Francis! He said it!"

"Ton frère zaid 'e love tu?"

"Close enuff. He sed he worries aboot meh."

"Most countriez worry about tu; zey zay tu is ze crazy." Scotland scowled.

"Not that sort of worry, ye eejit! The loving kind!" The red head snapped, as he knocked the pipe from under his jaw gently and pushed it away from his personal space.

He stood up and wiped the mud from his jeans, only to realise his hand was still bleeding and he had only succeeded in bloodying his clothes. He sighed irritated.

Russia stood up to his normal height, now that the red head was standing too.

"You said you would be one with Russia."

"If me brother didnae give meh a braw reason ta stay. And he did." He glanced up at the Russian. "Fair enuff, love's a fair reason fer meh."

"Oui. L'amour is a très, très bien reason pour staying. L'amour holdz ze bonds together and from it ze passion blooms and~"

"Yer gitting carried away…"

"Oui. Oui. Oui." France brushed off Scotland's comment. He was suddenly beside Scotland with his arm slung around his shoulder. "Desolè le Russe. L'Ecosse iz ztaying."

Russia glared angrily at the blonde with his eyes, still smiling with his mouth. Scotland sighed. France seemed to only agitate the tall man.

"Ivan, can ye gah home tahday?" The Russian blinked in surprise at the use of his human name. He really didn't want to leave without Scotland….

His red hair was so unique. It matched Prussia's eyes. But his white haired bunny always ran away from him… Would the red head do the same?

Scotland was staring right at him with those green eyes, waiting for a reply. He didn't look scared. He just looked like he was waiting for an answer.

Russia pulled his scarf up over his nose. "You will run away, da?"

The Scotsman tsked. "Gawd! Whit tha heel gave ye that idea?"

Russia tilted his head slightly. "You are hurt because of me."

Scotland rolled his eyes. "Welcome tah me everyday life." He lifted up his hand with the knife wounds. "I'm 'accident prone'. Git used ta it." He said simply.

"L'Ecosse iz alwayz looking pour trouble." France smiled.

"Oi! Trouble looks fer meh! I dinnae look ta git hurt." France just laughed sceptically. Scotland turned back to Russia.

"Nee, I wonnae run away if tha's why yer nae leaving." He thought before adding. "Yer tha first one who managed tae keep up with meh in a while. I'm gonnae want ta drink with ye agen fer sure."

France sighed exasperated. He knew the red head probably just wanted to see who can out drink the other.

Though maybe having someone who can keep up with Scotland could be good thing; they could keep him out of trouble when he's drunk. However, the fact that this man was Russia led to newer problems…

Russia looked brighter though.

"You will drink with me again?" He asked giddily.

"Da. But only if ye gah fer now."

Russia grinned widely. "Da!" He giggled slightly, making him appear childish.

The tall man soon quickly left, leaving the two friends alone in the alley way.

They suddenly both sighed and leaned against the wall. They glanced at each other and their eyes met. Scotland grinned widely out of the blue.

"Well, tha' was interesting."

"L'Ecosse…" The French man said sternly, though he was smiling now as well.

"Iggy finally sed he worried aboot meh tae."

The blonde rolled his eyes and mustered up the most sarcastic voice he could. "Oui! And all it took was pour tu to be nearly taken away by Le Russe and getting drunk and stabbed and ze fight with Belarus!"

Scotland barked out a loud, boisterous laugh. "Whit dee ye think it'll take fer him tae say 'I love you'?"

France shrugged. "Something crazy, mon ami."

Scotland looked thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe if I dated Belarus, he might sa~"

"Non! Non! Non! L'Ecosse! I draw ze line at Le Russe!"

"But she's fair bonnie and~"

"Non! She is ze crazy woman! Tu would die!"

"Aye, aye, fine. Fair enuff. I wonnae ask Belarus oot… though it might haff been tae late anaeway…"

"Quoi?"

"Weel, she's pished oof at meh because I threatened ta r~"

France's phone went off.

"Un moment." The blonde began digging around in his pocket for his mobile.

Scotland shrugged and looked up at the sky. The sky on his right was darkening quickly while the rest was a strange mixture of pale blue and vivid crimson and orange.

So it was finally sunset!

The red head was just letting his mind wander as he watched the navy blue slowly invade the red sky, while waiting for France to finish his phone call. He was distracted by a nudge. France was holding up the phone.

"Ton boss."

"Me boss?" Scotland raised an eyebrow.

"Oui. 'e soundz très angry and 'e sayz 'e haz been trying to phone tu pour a while."

"Fuck…" He took the phone anyway and held it to his ear.

The prime minister didn't sound happy as he began listing off file names which Scotland didn't fill today.

He had decided not to go to work today so was expecting a call like this. However it was far better than the earful he was sure to get when the Prime Minister found out what had happened with Russia and Belarus….

Though for now, he had an excuse.

"Actually, I was gonnae dee me paperwork taday _(Lie 1)_ but I thought it would be betta fer international relationships if I showed a country aroond. _(Lie 2)_"

France snickered in the background at the lies.

"Nee, it wasnae France. Aye, he was here though. I ken oor international relationship is braw enuff fer now. It was Russia."

The PM said something.

"Aye, it went dandy. _(Lie 3)_"

"Nee, there was nae fighting oor drinking. _(Lie 4)_"

"Aye he enjoyed himself and his sister showed up as well. She was fine tae. _(Lie 5)_"

France was trying to hold back his laughter as he watched Scotland try to convince his boss that everything went well. Even Scotland was grinning widely by this point.

"Aye, England totally agreed tae it and everything. _(Lie 6)_"

At this, the French man laughed loudly, the Prime Minister got annoyed, Scotland sighed and England suddenly rounded a corner and saw…

**(A/N – Now there is at least only one more chapter… There will probably be another afterwards that will be like the morning after chapter.**

**Yippee!**

**Scotland doesn't like getting in trouble with his boss. Of course, just not doing anything bad would be too 'easy' for Scotland so instead he tells fibs to his boss. He gets caught sometimes and gets into worst trouble though so his system is deeply flawed though…. **

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	47. Story 8 Chapter 16

**Worry.**

England suddenly rounded a corner and saw…

Sunset! It was sunset! The dead line was here!

And Scotland was on the phone! What if he was phoning their prime minister to quit the UK?

He ran pass a laughing France to the red head, smacking the phone from his brother's hand. The red head looked like he was going to angrily protest to the rash action, but before that the blonde acted.

Scotland froze in surprise.

England had his arms around the taller man's torso tightly, squeezing the brothers together in a hug. A few moments later and soon the red haired man's arms were around England.

The blond mumbled something intelligible into his chest.

"I cannae hear ye when yer havering in tae me chest…"

However the younger man remained still, frozen as if he was shocked at his impulsive actions.

The red head sighed at the silence.

He paused, staring briefly at the sky. He always liked the sky. It appeared endless and was ever changing. Plus it was his favourite colour. Today it was a light simmering blue with greyish clouds dotting the horizon. It was nice.

He signed a second time - it turned out you can't say everything you feel with actions alone. And it seemed to be one of those times he actually had to root around his vocabulary and dig out a sentence that showed his feelings. He was honestly a bit surprised he had to speak like this to his brother; usually he only needed to tell France his feelings.

And that was rare.

"I worry about ye, tae."

He felt the blonde relax slightly in the hug. England made soon sort of soft mumbling noise; probably out of embarrassment. He pressed his face farther into Scotland's shoulder and the red head felt the heat from the probably blush.

He glanced at France who was smiling slightly, phone back in hand after picking it up. He seemed pleased at the develop. The French man, though he was England's rival, liked it when the brothers got on like this for a moment or two. Apparently their constant fighting was affecting his beauty by creating a stressful environment. (though he did prefer it when the brothers disagreed sometimes as it gave his 'opportunities' to 'help' one of them 'blow off some steam')

France, when he noticed Scotland was looking at him gave the red head a thumbs up, to which the Scotsman rolled his eyes.

It was just after that gesture, that this heart felt moments between brothers ended by England pushing himself away. His cheeks were a rosy and his eyes seemed slightly watery from emotion, however he did still look annoyed at something.

"Wait! How did you know that I was worrying about you?" He demanded.

"Ye told me ova the phone."

"What? You heard me?"

"Aye."

"Why did you pretend that you didn't hear?"

"I was in the middle of a fight and I wasnae sure if I heard ye correctly!" England's cheeks darkened two more shades of red.

"You… You… You…" He stuttered, embarrassed of how emotional he had acted when it had just become clear that it wasn't necessary. "You… You… YOU IDIOT!"

The other two in the alley way flinched at the sudden volume.

"I cannot believe I ran half way across this bloody city, just to fucking embar~" He was silenced by another hug, this time though Scotland had started it. "L-Let go, you bastard!"

"Nee."

"I said 'Le~"

"Nee."

The blonde tried to push himself away again but was stopped by Scotland's strength.

"Cheers fer… worrying about meh…" England sniffed as he leant his head on Scotland.

"S-stupid… I thought you were going to disappear again…"

"Again?" England went silent and Scotland soon figured that his little brother was probably crying. Not his exact intent…

"I-diot… You always d-disappeared… w-when w-we were youn-younger…"

"Ye ran away a lot tae." The red head accused softly.

"You c-chased me away!"

"You…!" Scotland scowled slightly as he found himself unable to come up with a counter. "What dee ye mean by disappear anae way?" He asked, a little snappily though he didn't mean it to sound that way.

"Sometimes, centuries ago… and sometimes even now, I wouldn't see or hear from you for years…"

"Tha's 'cause we were in alotta wars against each otha." Scotland reasoned. England sighed huffily.

"Wanker. I mean even when we weren't fighting. The most I ever saw you in a past was on the battle field!"

Scotland at this point had considered answering 'That's because I was busy' or 'I was very busy then' but, since he knew both were lies, he said, "Ah."

The truth was he did avoid his brothers, not just England but mostly him, a lot in the past. He was rarely busy and spent quite a bit of his teenage years bored. His life then was… slightly confusing at best and usually not the safest…

'Actually tha' was a complete understatement.' Scotland mused.

With all the civil wars and fighting between the 150+ clans, he was highly unstable back then. It made him very dangerous in a way, with his mood swings, temper and changeability. Not to mention the shaky morals he had to begin with.

He had not been born for battle like Prussia and other European countries but he had grown up with it anyway. All the blood shed made him act 'strangely' and that made many people think he was insane. Truth be told, sometimes he even thought he was a little crazy with all the chaos going on around him.

Then he started drinking to get rid of the headaches from the conflict, madness from battle, the memories of the past and guilt. He also smoked (not always nicotine) in the last two or three centuries. Unfortunately he had been 'blessed' with a high alcohol tolerances and a resilient brain.

Yes, he did avoid England a lot in the past. He saw no point in denying that. However he also didn't see any point in telling England some of the reasons why he was avoided. He was content with letting the blonde continue thinking that the only reason why he was avoided was because he was hated or because the two fought a lot. Though those were undeniably two of the biggest reasons…

"Ye noticed?…"

"Anyone would notice if their brother suddenly disappeared for almost an entire bloody century!" The English man snapped, pushing himself away again. Scotland released the hug and the blonde took two steps back. His cheeks were slightly damp and his eyes were a little bit puffy but he wasn't crying anymore.

France sighed as he watched the two Britons. In his opinions these two were hopeless beyond compare. He was still trying to figure out how it went from a 'care and share' to the beginning of a argument.

Luckily (or unluckily depending on what France says and does next) for them, the 'country of l'armour' was there! France had considered trying to openly take part in the conversation but he knew that would never work and would make things much worse. So he did this.

Standing behind England so only Scotland could see his actions. 'Scotland! Apologise!' The blond mouthed. 'Zen say zomething nice to 'im.'

The red head raised an eyebrow.

'Compliment 'im. Tell ze tea sipper zat 'e was thoughtful.' Scotland tilted his head ever so slightly, showing that he understood.

England, meanwhile, was drying his cheeks with a handkerchief. He couldn't believe that he had ended up crying! It resulted from a mixture of relief, embarrassment and happiness. Stupid brother!

Speaking of his bloody brother, the red head was looking vaguely thoughtful, like he was trying to think of something to say. Well whatever it was, England didn't want to hear it.

"England?"

"What, you git?"

"I love ye."

…

"What?"

"I love ye."

England blanched before laughing uneasily. "Haha…ha… ha. Very funny old chap. Scotland, you can stop joki~"

Scotland suddenly leaned forward, crossing the height difference and making so their faces were only inches apart. His face was completely serious.

"I'm nae joking. I love ye."

"What?"

"I… love… you." Scotland tapped England hard on the forehead with every syllable of the sentence. The blonde rubbed his forehead. "Git it tha' time?"

England felt his entire face burn hotly as all the blood rushed to his cheeks, ears, forehead and neck.

That was totally unexpected!

He knew that at the moment he was probably the colour of a tomato. Scotland tilted his head slightly as he peered at his youngest brother.

"Are ye embarrassed that one man is saying 'I love ye' tae anotha man?"

"Wha-What? NO!"

"I suppose tha's right. Ye are gay. Oor are ye bi? I fergit."

England felt himself turn super nova at that comment.

"It doesnae matter anaeway." Scotland dismissed absently. "I'm yer brother so I can say I love ye."

"W-What are you saying?"

"I, Iain Stewart Kirkland, love ye, Arthur Kirkland."

"Yes! B-but what do you mean?"

"I. Love. Ye." "Stop saying that!"

"Why? It's true. I love ye."

"I said 'shut up'!"

"Nar, ye told meh ta stop saying I love ye."

"So stop it!"

"Ain't ye gonnae say it back?"

"W-what?"

"When someone says I love ye, ye have ta say something back."

England wasn't sure what would happen if every drop of blood in his body pooled in his cheeks but he was soon going to find out. God, this was embarrassing. No! Mortifying! His brother was confessing his love for England (in a brotherly way) in public (in front of France). Plus he was standing so close and was leaning down so their eyes were completely level!

"Weel?" The red head asked expectantly.

France sighed softly, watching his friend and his rival. The side of Scotland's lips twitched up in a smile, probably a smirk. He is enjoying this, the French man noted, watching England squirm. Scotland had seemed very serious and genuine in the beginning but at some point he had noticed that this was making England uncomfortable. It was a shame in a strange way….

England didn't seem that much better. His face was horribly scarlet, totally tasteless in fashion, as he blushed profusely.

France shook his head slightly with his arms crossed. He did tell Scotland to say something nice to his brother but even he didn't see this coming. The French man smiled softly anyway. It seemed that the way this was going, Scotland wouldn't need to date Belarus for England to admit he loves his oldest brother.

"Weel?"

"F-fine! I fucking love you! Are you happy, you absolute wanker? Now sod off!" The blonde finally burst out.

There was a few seconds of stillness before Scotland suddenly broke out into a wide grin. England blinked in surprised, taken back a bit. It was rare for him to see his brother smile so happily. The man was practically beaming.

"I ken. I jus' wannae hear ye say it." He gave a short laugh as he pulled his face away and stood up at his normal height again.

"Why are you laughing?" The red head laughed again.

"'Cause I'm happy, ye eejit."

England smiled back shyly at first before smiling normally. He strangely felt happy as well. Though a couple things about his brother were still bothering him.

"Where did Russia go?"

"Probably Russia. I dinnae ken where in Russia though."

"Wasn't he trying to kidnap you?"

"Aye, I guess so." England frowned slightly. Shouldn't his brother sound more concern; being kidnapped is very serious! However the red head seemed disinterested in his near taking as if it was normal.

**(A/N - Fairies (normally Unseelie) are famous for kidnapping so Scotland is used to it. He is nearly fairied away a lot but England doesn't know this.) **

"Why is Belarus angry with you then?" Scotland looked genuinely surprised at the question. France on the other hand looked interested; he hadn't heard what happened between Belarus and Scotland yet.

"How did ye ken Belarus was here?" The blonde rolled his eyes.

"You left behind a wall full of knifes that looked like they belonged to Russia's sister. Plus Belarus is obsessed with Russia and follows him most places."

"Ah. How did ye ken she was raging at meh though?"

"I met her."

"Ah. I thought she went home."

"Apparently not." France was now standing beside England, just as curious. "So why is she, and I quote, 'going to rape that slutty red head'."

France paled upon hearing the threat for the first time.

"Probably 'cause I threatened tae rape her first. I cannae think of anae otha reason than tha'" Both blonde countries stared in absolute shock at the taller man.

"Sacred bleu, L'Ecosse! Belarus is goi~ Non, L'Russe is going to kill tu!"

"Oh my God! My brother has a death wish!"

"Yer both over reacting."

France shook his head violently with worry. Just as soon as Scotland convinced Russia to go home, he reveals that he threatened Belarus! And she was still here!

"Tu are under-reacting, mon amis!"

"Yes, Scotland! Can you not see the severe~" He was interrupted by a phone buzzing. France glanced at his phone before handing to Scotland.

"'ello?" A loud voice suddenly screamed over the mobile's speaker. "Fuck. I fergit about tha PM…"

"What?"

"Ye knocked tha phone out of me hand when I was talking tae him!"

"How was I meant to know that! I thought you were quitting the UK!"

"Shut up! This is yer fault!"

"What do you mean by that?" England demanded angrily.

"If ye didnae knock tha phone away, he wouldnae be this pished!" Scotland snapped back as he held the phone to his ear. France rolled his eyes.

"Tu are both tres impossible!"

"Shut it Frog!"

"Tea sipper, tu are so petite and tasteless."

"Fuck off you wanker! We're the same height and there is nothing wrong with my clothes!"

"I cannae speak on tha phone when yer both hollering like this!" The red head chastised the blondes as he tried to speak with his boss. He turned back tae tha phone.

"Aye everything I sed befoore was true and all. I told ye tha truth!" Scotland paused, shallowing slightly as if he was nervous suddenly.

"Whit? There are reports of a female country threading humans with knifes in Edinburgh? Havenae heard of her."

"Nae, I have nae idea who she is."

"Belarus? Ye think?" "Ye dee…"

"So, ye actually ken…"

"Umm… Anae change I gonnae git out of this without tae much trouble?"

"Nae change in heel?… Weel, England was apart of this tae."

"What?"

"Aye, England ken aboot this entire situation."

"Don't drag me into your mess, you twat!" The blonde snatched the phone off of Scotland. "Hello sir?"

The Prime Minister shouted something over the phone. "Um, yes I may have known of Russia and Belarus but…"

"Yes I know sir but…"

"Yes but you should know - Scotland threatened to rape Belarus!"

"Wee, fuckin' weasel!" Scotland pulled the phone from England's hand.

"England made a bet with Russia and tha prize was meh!"

"I did not! That was you!"

"Ye agreed tah it and took part!"

"L'Ecosse is right, Angleterre." England had one hand on the phone, like Scotland and pulled it over so it was close to his ear.

"Well, Scotland got drunk and nearly kidnapped!"

"Fuck oof! PM, England git in a bar fight with Russia!" Scotland yelled into the phone, trying to wrestle the mobile from his brother's grip. England was also fighting for the phone.

"Scotland beat up a human!"

"Tha' was self defence, ye bassa! England git kicked oot oof Fiona's pub agen!" The two were competing for France's phone while tattling on each other. Eventually England said this.

"Scotland also got in a bar fight with another human! He was stabbed!" The blonde froze as he suddenly remembered that yesterday his brother was injured and there was blood on a wall today.

"Weel, England also wa~"

"Wait! You were stabbed yesterday!"

"Aye! Ye just fucking tattled on meh few tha'!" The Englishman pulled the phone hard and Scotland lost grip on it. Whether or not their boss was still there and listening was unknown. It was unlikely so the fight had probably been unnecessary.

England glanced at the phone. The silver plastic casing was slippery with dark red liquid, explaining why Scotland lost his grip so easily. He wondered how he didn't notice this before. He even had blood on his hand, in the shape of long slim fingers.

He retracted his hand from the phone in shock and it dropped to the pavement.

His eyes turned to Scotland's new dark blue hoodie. It was slightly ill fighting; as in order to accommodate his long limbs he had to buy a larger size so it was baggy on his skinnier body. There was blood along his left sleeve, mostly on the cuff. His hand was entirely crimson. In particular was a large dark scarlet inflamed line on his palm.

The blonde's eyes widen and he grabbed the hand.

He didn't expect the punch to his mouth and his brother hand being yanked back.

"Fuck! Why are ye bleeding grabbing me fucking hand! Bitch! It still fucking hurts bassa!" Scotland held his hand, obviously in pain and angry.

England on the other hand was fine; the punch had been light and not aimed; glancing off the side of his mouth. It seemed Scotland had just wanted his hand back, not to cause any pain or punishment.

"What happened to your hand?" He asked, surprised to see the reaction of pain from his brother.

"Whit dee ye bloody heel, fucking think happened? I did threaten tae fucking rape a bloody psychotic, knife throwing bitch!"

"She stabbed you?"

Scotland pulled out his most sarcastic voice. "Nae; she was bloody happy to be threatened! In fact, she opened up her fucking dress and begged meh tae take her there! AYE, SHE FUCKING STABBED MEH! And it bloody hurts when ye bloody grab it like that!" Scotland finished his rant before turning to the side so he was no longer facing England.

The blond watched as the red head began to moodily lick the wound, winching at the obvious pain. It was like watching a puppy trying to stop a cut on its paw from hurting. At least it was cleaning the injury a bit.

He wondered why Scotland didn't mention it before. It was like he didn't notice it until England had purposely grabbed it…

"Scotland… Did you possibly forget that you had that knife wound and forgot to feel the pain? Then when you did remember it, you remembered the pain?"

"Shut it! Dinnae someone teach ye tab neva grab a injury!" The red haired man went back to lapping at the bloody cut.

England rolled his eyes in a way of endearment towards his brother. He couldn't tell if the man was clever or a complete idiot. However he was still very worried about the cut.

"Come on. Let me see, you wanker." Scotland hesitated. "Please." He finally held it out gingerly.

England took the hand carefully and examined it.

No wonder it hurts! The knife must have gone through his entire hand! The red head basically had a hole through his palm!

The hole ran from the base of his thumb, diagonally, to the bottom of his pinky in a long, wide line. He couldn't actually see through his brother's hand with all the flesh being swollen and beginning to heal and close up. However he knew it went through it as there was a small identical cut from where the knife exited the hand.

There were traces of grit and dirt in the cut. There was less blood, now that Scotland had licked some of it up. The flesh around the cut was swollen and inflamed a bright, painful red.

England paled slightly as he saw the disconnected muscles and tenons. He turned the hand around and looked at the back of the hand at the exit of the hole. It didn't look as painful but the skin around the cut was more ragged.

It seemed like a pretty serious cut; thankfully not cutting the wrist or the ulnar artery so blood lost would not be too bad if they just bandaged at the moment. The man would probably need to go to hospital for stitches anyway.

England bit his bottom lip in worry. He didn't have any bandages on him. However, he smiled as he got an idea. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around the hand.

When he tightened the knot, Scotland let out a "Son of a…!", glaring at the English man before pulling the hand away again.

England sighed softly, shaking his head. He sucked in a small gasp of air as he saw another tiny spot of blood on the navy blue hoodie near the stomach.

"Scotland! Can I see your stomach wound?"

"Hmmm? Aye, sure." Scotland replied absently, examining the bandaging lazily. France was also looking carefully at it as well. He was concerned for his best friend's health.

The Scotsman lifted up the hoodie, revealing his clothes from yesterday. England grimaced in disgust at the dark, gritty brown splotch of old blood and ripped clothing. In the centre of the filthy, flakey, dried mess was a damp spot that was still a glistening crimson. Scotland lifted up that top to reveal his pale stomach, lined with smooth hard muscles and glossy old scars. The cut from yesterday was seeping small amounts of blood, though the tissue around it was healed.

"You're wound is open!"

"I only healed it a tad yesterday tah make Russia stop worrying. It was still fair fragile. I must had busted it open agen when I was fighting with Russia…" Scotland barely glanced at it.

"Nae bleeding tae badly." He dropped the shirt and return to his hand, looking at it curiously.

England however pulled the shirt up again. He stared at the blood worriedly. "Does it hurt?"

"Nee. Cannae feel it much… Me hand still hurts like heel. Almost like some twat had grabbed it." England scowled slightly.

"Oh do shut up." He let the hoodie fall back down again. "They are both your fault anyway. What possessed you to make up this insane bet anyway?"

Scotland grinned again. "'Cause I love ye and I wannae hear ye say it tae." The blonde flushed a deep red.

"W-what?"

"I love ye." England blushed harder.

Scotland laughed at his reaction. He gave a poke to England forehead.

"Gotcha, ye wee bairne."

**(A/N - Feel free to hit me! God - I have been so busy. In fact - I finally got my first job! I'm a waiter! :P**

**The scary thing is that 3 weeks before I got the job I drew Scotland in a waiter's outfit and my work uniform is almost exactly the same. The only different is my bow tie and vest top is plain black.**

**lil-miss-tiny . deviant art . com / # / d4pm1wt**

**Hopefully you can view the picture from this link and hopefully this will pacify any feeling of impatience... I'm just so sorry again!**

**The good news is that I only have one more chapter to do for this story.**

**REVIEW PLEASE! Tell me whether I'm any good at fluff. I cannae tell so I'm not sure if I should try writing it again.**

**And I'm sorry again for the wait. You guys must get impatient or pissed off at times.)**


	48. Story 8 Chapter 17

**The Queen Kicks Ass.**

"Do you two realise what you have done?"

"Yes/Aye, Prime minister" Came the unison reply.

"What were you two thinking at the time?"

"We dinnae/don't ken/know, Prime minister."

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"Nar/No, Prime minister."

There was a short pause before one of the men wait up.

"Wait. Actually, Mr PM. Can I git up now? I'm bored."

"Yes sir. I do not see any point of this exercise. What are we meant to be doing?" A vein popped in the forehead of the already scarlet Prime minister.

Kneeling in front of him and his desk were the two countries of Scotland and England, both carrying a heavy bucket of water on their laps. This was apparently some form of Japanese punishment done at schools but so far neither of them had caught on that this was a form of discindnary action. They both thought the Prime minister was just acting strangely.

"You two are being punished!" He hissed out in a strained voice. The two glanced at each other.

"We are?"

"Whit does holding a bloody bucket of water haff tae dee with being punished?"

"I don't know. Ask our Prime minister if you don't know wanker."

"Oi! PM! What does a bucket of wa~"

"It's meant to give you a physical strain and a mild form of pain." The man answered quickly, having no patience at the moment for his two countries. There was a brief silence before Scotland started laughing loudly and England tried to smother a series of giggles.

"WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING!"

"Gawd, yer such an eejit. Hahaha, he actually thought this was a real punishment. Hahahaha." The red head chuckled, making the water slosh around in the pail slightly.

England tried to disguise his laughter as a cough and failed. "I think what my brother is trying to explain is that Pfft~ that we're countries so something as…"

"Lame. Stupid. Silly." England tried not to laugh as Scotland listed what they thought of the punishment.

"As… _simple_ as this… Pfft~ I'm sorry sir, but this has no effect on us." The two returned to laughing.

The Prime minister glared at them both but was ignored. "God, maybe I should quit and let the next poor sap who is elected deal you!"

"Aw, dinnae dee tha'! We might git another yob like Tony. Iraq is still pished at us!"

"Yes, do think this over. You're doing a fine job, old chap." Their boss looked over the men in his charge again before turning to his desk, to a file with a red confidential stamp across the front.

"Fine, boys. If you believe this is not an adequate punishment… then I shall have to think of better ones." He pointed first at the red haired country. "Scotland, I'm putting my foot down on your smoking problem! Now, even in public, you are not not allowed a single cigarette!"

"Whit? Ye cannae pass tha law without a vote!"

"No, it's not your entire country who is banned from smoking. It's just you."

"WHIT?"

"No. More. Cigarettes."

"Until when?"

"Never." Scotland's mouth hanged out slightly in surprise that someone had actually banned him from smoking. Taking this chance to continue talking, the Prime minister turned to England.

"And England, no more antique shopping or garage sales! Especially for tea sets. You always over spend on your budget and our economy is already poor!"

"Sir! That is unfair!"

"No, it isn't."

"My antique collecting is not dangerous to anyone!"

"It's dangerous to our budget and economy."

"It's rather unfair to take that away from me. It helps me connect to the past."

"You are connected enough."

"I grew up with most of the items! Some of them used to be mine!"

"Then you threw them away."

"But I want them back!"

"You only want them back because they now belong to someone else! No! More! Antiques!"

"But Sir!~"

"Ye cannae stop meh smoking!" England turned to see that Scotland had come out of his stupor. He seemed pissed off. "Why tha fuck dee I haft listen tae whit ye say?"

"Because, I am your boss!" He yelled at the kneeling men.

"I think I should be allowed to buy what I wish, Prime Minister!"

"Shut it, England. Yer stupid auld tea sets can wait! Tea tastes tha same nae matter whit cup it's served in!"

"Quiet! Don't flaunt your hick side, you unrefined savage! The tea cup is just as important as the tea!"

"Now gentlemen… Let's try to calm down. You two are still being punis~" The prime minister tried to calm the two countries down but was unfortunately interrupted.

"Fuckin' snob! Why are ye always gaming aroond picking up other people's shite? Filthy wee minger."

"Valuble antiques! Not shit!"

"Ye dinnae tell meh why!"

"I might need them again!"

"Why would ye eva need them agen? They're jus' junk now! Now I need cigarettes!"

The Prime minister watched the men argue before sitting with a loud sigh. He glared at them both, waiting for a chance to speak and possibly stop them from arguing. He had no idea how previous Prime Ministers managed to stay sane and look after these men… When it became evident that this was not going to happen for a while, the man looked out the window in deep thought as he wondered about previous PMs.

True, he got on excellently with the brothers most of the time but occasionally this would happen.

"Cigarettes? You think those smelly sticks are worth anything near my priceless antiques!"

"Priceless antiques, me erse! It's all crap that ye jus' buy!"

"And what do your 'special' cigarettes do anyway?"

"They help keep meh calm! And less irritable!"

"You should get a refund then!"

"Bassa!"

The distracted Prime Minister was dragged back to reality and the two fighting men in front of him by the sudden loud splash of water and enraged holler.

Scotland sat, still on his knees with his full bucket of water, but now he was soaking wet. While England kneeled beside him, holding a empty bucket over Scotland's head. The Prime minister stood up from behind his desk, his jaw hanging open. It seemed his punishments have back fired horridly.

Scotland looked like he had snapped or gone demented. He suddenly turned to his brother in a slow, stiff fashion, his bright green eyes ablaze with rage. He let out a low hiss as his hands tightened around the bucket and the blonde was on suddenly on his feet. England dashed away from the Scottish man as the red head stood up, brandishing the bucket of cold water like a weapon.

"Come back here, you cowardly snob!" England glared back at him.

"You hick! I'm not acting cowardly!"

"If yer nae a fucking coward, come over here then! And stop calling meh a hick!" Scotland held his bucket which happened to be a metal emergency fire bucket. England's bucket was the cleaner's plastic one but it was empty now.

"If you don't want to be called a hick, stop acting like one, you savage! And I'm not that stupid!" Scotland swung the full pail at England who ducked away and ran to behind the standing Prime minister. The man paled as he realised that he was now caught up in the fight.

"Stop hiding, ye dick heed!"

"Ha! You can't get me without getting our boss as well!" The red head suddenly smirked cruelly.

"Perfect. This is fer banning meh from smoking. And fer ye calling me a hick." Both men had no time to move before cold water rushed over both of their bodies, drenching their suits. "Heh. I git two birds with one stone."

England stood there gasping like a fish before his cheeks flared up. "You git! Look at what you have done! I'm wet!"

"Fuck oof, ye erse!"

"I hope you never get to smoke again!"

"I hope all yer tea falls in tha ocean!"

**"ENOUGH!" **The countries turned to their boss who arms were crossed as he glared them down.

They both suddenly gulped. Now they were in trouble….

"I cannot believe that two fully grown men can act so bloody immature!"

"You swore, sir!"

"And it's his fault!"

"What?"

"Shut the fuck up, you two! Scotland, you will never smoke again! At least while I'm Prime Minister! And England! No car booting!" The red head and blonde opened their mouths in protest but where silenced. "God! Why did I even agreed to this stupid job! I should have just quit while I was ahead! But _NO!_ I_ wanted_ to make this country a better place! I just _had _to try to help the bloody economy!** Fuck the economy!**"

Scotland and England stared wide eyed at their boss as he ranted and vented his feelings. This wasn't a rare occasion, when one of their bosses just have had enough and wanted to yell at them a little. It happened at least once during their elected period and usually more than that. Despite this, Scotland and England always have a good relationship with their bosses the rest of the time.

However this was a rather spectacular emotional explosion (not many of the bosses swore so much to them). Considering he had only been working a couple of months…

"You know what? I'm just going to bloody_ quit!_"

"What/Whit? You/Ye can't/cannae quit!"

"Well, watch me! Let the next sap who gets roped into this deal with you two _children!_" England huffed at the word children, annoyed that he was being referred to as such.

"Now, sir that is rather unfair." Scotland on the other hand shouted back.

"Whit dee ye mean children!"

"I mean that you two are the most self-centred, loud, short tempered, stubborn asses I have ever met! You act like bloody three year olds!" The man patted his wet hair off of his face.

"Oi! We're nae bairnes!"

"Wanker! I mean Mr Prime Minister! I completely disagree!"

"I am going to quit right now!"

_"Now, now, let us not over react."_ A stern female's voice drifted from the door of the office.

The three damp men turned to see the short, white haired form of an older woman, daintily holding a small handbag in the door way of the office. Simultaneously all three mouths dropped to the group.

"The Queen!"

"Your Majesty!"

"Liz!"

"It's your Majesty, Scotland…" The Queen gave a gentle laugh.

"Oh, England. No need to be so formal. We have known each other since I was born."

"Yes, Ma'am." The blonde replied smiling proudly.

"Oh. Hey Liz!" Scotland greeted, grinning.

The Prime Minster straightened his back and stood tall, trying to regain some pride or composture. He bowed very lowly from the waist when the Queen then turned to him. "Your Highness." He said in a low voice. "

You may rise, Prime Minister." He stood up hurriedly.

"I formally welcome our most reverend Queen, Her Majesty of Great Britain. May you live a long prosperously life and reign ~" He heard the two men behind him giggle slightly and blushed, stopping his speech. Dammit! He shouldn't have listened to North Ireland about how to greet the Queen.

The white haired woman smiled knowingly. "Please, do not be so formal." Her voice lowered to a hushed whisper suddenly. "The truth is… When you spend a life time of being treated so formally, you get bored of it." She smiled and the man found himself smiling back. "Call me Elizabeth."

"Where are your guards, your Majes~ I mean E-E-Eliz…" The Prime minister stared at his shoes, too embarrassed to simply call the queen by her first name so casually.

"Call me, Ma'am if you can't call me Elizabeth." The Queen approached the red haired Scotsman and the blonde. "With these two, I have nothing to worry about. They are simply the best guards for me." Scotland grinned bashfully, holding out his arm, semi-flexed while England blushed, nodding slightly in agreement.

The PM nodded and the Queen turned to the countries. Both gave a small bow.

"H-How long have you been watching, Ma'am?" England asked nervously, his manners still as polite as ever. The Queen's eyes suddenly narrowed at the countries.

"Actually… That is why I have come here." The took a few steep back so she was standing exactly in front of Scotland and England. Her face was icy cold suddenly, losing all its friendliness and suddenly becoming the feared, all powerful monarchy that ruled in the history books.

"A-ah… How was yer morning then?" Scotland asked hopefully, trying to avoid what ever was coming next.

"It was lovely actually. Right until I read the newspaper…." She paused to look the men up and down carefully. "Did you know you two and your 'friends' managed to get a article." Scotland paled and England looked faint. "I believe the headline was 'British men threaten Slavic tourists.'"

The Prime minster watched in surprise as both men looked like nervous children whose hands had just been caught in a cookie jar.

"We can explain!"

"Aye! You see~"

"Silence." She ordered.

The two men bowed their heads, closing their mouths instantly like they were scared of the much smaller person. The PM suddenly smiled in amusement. It was comical to see these two strong, stubborn men act so submissive for this frail old woman.

He watched as the Queen approached his desk, glancing at the file. She opened it with her small, gloved hands that held such amazing power. She scanned the report, reading out points in her noble sounding voice.

"Over drinking in Public, causing a disturbance in a bar, breaking a man's arm, getting stabbed, having the police and ambulance called, knocking out another country, placing your independency in the hands of others,_ threatening_ to _rape _a female country, fighting Russia and lying to your boss, the Prime Minister. And that is just Scotland."

She glanced at the blonde.

"Attacking another country, dragging France into this mess, fighting with France, causing a scene in a public bar, gambling with your brother's independency, causing another scene in Edinburgh~" She saw his confused look. "The Scottish man you threatened reported you." His mouth made a small 'o' while Scotland's head snapped in his direction with a glare. "Withholding important information from your boss, letting a rogue country, Belarus, run around wild, causing panic and finally not holding up to you responsibility of being the face of the entire country."

She closed the file.

"I also heard the Prime Minister's punishments for you boys…"

"Then, ye'll ken that I'm nae stopping smoking, Liz."

"I agree. I shall still collect my antiques, Ma'am."

The Queen sighed softly, patting her handbag. "My family may no longer be officially in charge of you… But you shall listen to me when I say this! Listen to _your _Prime Minister!"

Suddenly Scotland was on the ground clutching his nose. "Fuck!" The Prime Minister blinked in surpass as the red head sat up, his hand over his nose. Thin trails of shiny crimson blood seeped from between the fingers like moss, diluting to a light pink from the water still on his skin.

Seconds later, England was kneeling as well, clutching the back of his head in pain and swearing profoundly under his breath. The Queen gave a small huff, lazily swinging her handbag from side to side.

It suddenly occurred to the Prime Minister that the Queen had used her bag as a deadly weapon on her own countries, bringing them to the ground.

"Tough auld bird…" was quietly muttered as Scotland tilted his head back in hope to slow the blood, leaning on one hand. He was quickly knocked over onto his side by the Queen's dainty but inhumanly strong arm and hand bag combo. The attack seemed to have hit the area above his eye.

England chuckled slightly at the sight before the woman turned to him with a glare. Two hits on his cheek and mouth and soon even the great England was lying down again.

The Prime Minister stared at his two countries as they lied back on the ground submissively. They both lied in opposite direction but their heads were still beside each other.

England had his eyes closed as he feigned being relaxed but his scrunched up eye brows broke the illusion. His bottom lip was swollen and inflamed on one side while his cheek was cherry coloured turning purple and but in the centre. Scotland on the other hand didn't hide his annoyance, glaring intently at the ceiling like it was the most amazing and interesting place in the room. He was pinching his bloody nose hard and he had a black eye forming. His face had diluted blood smeared across his cheeks and mouth.

The Queen turned to the Prime Minister suddenly with a kind smile and the man gulped nervously.

"Now, dearie. Don't fret. My boys are tough. They will be add right as rain by tomorrow." She sat down on the chair with a small sigh. "That was tiring. I am not as young as I used to be."

England's yes shot open and Scotland's stare fell from the ceiling, softening. Both countries looked at the Queen with absolute concern and worry that it was highly endearing. They sat up together, attracting the Queen's attention. She flicked away their gazes. "Don't worry, you two. I'm still well enough to teach you two a lesson or two."

She gave a short laugh, her eyes surrounded by pale wrinkled skin sparkled with a youthful flare that contrasted with her body. She reached into her bag and removed a pale yellow handkerchief which she held out to Scotland for his nose bleed. "You two can go now. Two people are waiting for you outside. Remember that you two are being punished according to the Prime Minister's wishes. Any arguments?"

They both shook their heads. The minister stared, gaping. How could she settle that argument so quickly and efficiently with just a few words.

The Queen watched as the two men left with a familiar fondness like a mother watching two troublesome children. When they were gone, she turned to see the Prime Minister staring at her in awe and respect.

"Do sit down, dear." The man sat down nervously, his wet suit squelching. He blushed as he mentally cursed Scotland for dousing him with water earlier. "Now, Mr Prime Minister. What you were saying about quitting this job earlier~"

"I'm not going to quit. I was just frustrat~" He stopped at her surprised expression. It was then that he realised that he had interrupted the_ Queen of England_. She relaxed moments later.

"I know. I was just going to say, it is best not to get caught up in any fights that you have with them." She smoothed out her skirt carefully. "Since you have only been a Prime Minister for a very short length of time, you are unfamiliar of how a country works."

"Ma'am. I must inform you that I have been properly schooled and educated in the workings of a country's affairs." He said politely and seriously. She laughed in reply.

"I am talking of the representations. I must remind you, and my self at times, that though those brothers may look very human, they are indeed not human at all." The minster nodded, though he looked a little puzzled. The Queen continued. "I have taken it upon myself to give a little guiding hand to new prime ministers as I have grown up with them my entire life." She cleared her throat delicately.

"Now as I was saying about any little tiffs or fights which may happen, you must remember that they see things very differently from us humans. Something that seems very petty to us may be of great importance to a country and vice versa. The violent fights and threat of rape seems very serious to us, doesn't it?" The Prime Minister nodded. "Well, I have discovered that to a country that is hardly anything after wards."

The Queen glanced at the door, when she heard a raised English accent, scolding someone. She continued calmly anyway.

"Did you know that Scotland and England used to try to the best of their abilities to kill and destroy the other one? It only took one single treaty being signed by humans to end that fight to the death which spanned for centuries. They still argue now but that is due to current political climate, rather than any grudges over the past. Though the past does come up occasionally…" The Prime Minister looked a little shocked.

"You should also be aware of other traits that countries tend to have. It is not abnormal for them to be possessive over things and very stubborn to a degree that it seems silly."

"In what way, Ma'am?"

"It will be easier to think of this geographically. If one land were to take something valuable, say like coal, from another land, there would be a possibility of war, right?"

The man nodded again. He was beginning to feel like a bobble head. Was it polite to just nod in reply to the Queen? He didn't know. She hasn't said anything about it so far so he assumed it was okay.

"It is the same for representations. They are possessive over their valuables because they are land. Just remember that no matter how human they appear, their bodies are just pieces of land." She scanned him to see if he understood. He looked like he vaguely got the concept. Like most humans, he was probably having difficulty that the men who had just left were actually the countries themselves.

"And their stubbornness, Ma'am?"

"If countries, and the leaders for that matter, were not stubborn, wars would not be a problem." She sighed. "Can you imagine arguing with another man for 116 years? France and England did that. We humans call it the 100 years war though."

"Ma'am, I think I understand what you are saying. However, was it wise to… um… hit them like that?" She suddenly looked inspired.

"That reminds me, Minister countries will not bow to weaker beings."

"Weaker beings?"

"Yes. But not in a completely physical way, though that plays an important role. A stronger country will never be ruled by a weaker country. Russia ruled over many countries in the Soviet union because he was a very strong country military wise. An economically strong country will not obey to a poorer country as well." She patted her handbag.

"Though for you, it is just important to know that countries will only follow a strong leader with a strong will. If you show any hesitation or doubt, they will not listen. Show too much weakness or act too unsure and they may just get rid of you in preference for a stronger leader." She heard a small gulp which was not uncommon when she recited this part. She had said these things many times already and she could more or less guess how one would react.

"It sounds brutal but they do depend on a strong leader for a good survival. It could threaten their well being and life if they have a weak leader that cannot make appropriate decisions at the right time. In their eyes, decisiveness wins important battles - politically and physically."

A door slammed elsewhere in the building, probably by inhuman strength.

"I do not expect you to be physically stronger than them as that is impossible for a human though. You just need to be calm, confident and stringed willed. The reason why you are soaking wet and I hit them is because when you lost your temper so easily and quickly, then sat back and took a passive side. it showed them that you cannot be focused. You acted rashly, even threatening to quit. It showed a certain weakness. I would advise against that. I just restored the balance of power between the leader and the country."

"I understand, Ma'am. I will not make the same mistake again."

"It is okay if you do. These mistakes are easy to fix if you can regain your confidence and control afterwards."

"Yes, your Majesty." She stood suddenly. "It is best that I get going now. I do not want to over whelm you at the moment. I leave you with the advice that countries are not humans. Remember that and consider things from their point of view and always be confident and strong. It will help settle arguments quicker and in your favour."

"You have given me some very helpful information, your Highness."

"And Prime Minister."

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"It is impolite to just nod. If we are ever in public, please call me Your Majesty and say Yes in full."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

The two people that the Queen had mentioned were outside the door were a certain pair of blonde brothers.

"Whoa! What the hell happened to your nose? It's totally smashed up, dude!" America yelled at the sighted of a bloodied Scotland. He was ignored by the red head though.

"Hey Mattie. Foos yer doo? It's nae often ye come ova tha pond tae see meh." The timid Canadian looked surprised but very praised when he was addressed before his flamboyant brother.

"Ah. Yes, uncle Scotland. That was because I have been very busy at work recently, eh… I finally got a break so I came to see you. Though I heard from Papa's boss you were in trouble…" Canada stared worried at his bleeding nose and black eye. "What did happen?"

"Me queen beat me up…" He muttered in reply, embarrassed.

"Ain't she like a 100 years old, dude?"

"America!" England came storming up to the taller blonde. His lip was now very swollen and the bruise had bloomed like a large blue rose over his pale cheek. "How dare you insult any member of the Royal family, let alone the Queen!"

"Aye. Yer out tha windae. Ye clearly havnae met our Queen when she's in a bad mood." Scotland muttered angrily.

"But she's like ancient! How can she be strong? Way! An old bird kicked your asses!"

"SHUT UP! Age is irrelevant, you were very strong as a baby you know!"

"But being old is different! You got owned by a old b~"

"I said Shut up! It does not matter how old she is! You clearly are not understanding what I am say so I will say it in 'your' language." England took in a steady breath before speaking in a dead serious, heavily English accented voice.

"The. Queen. Kicks. Ass."

There was a long pause before America burst into laughter. England advanced on the hyena like blonde, leaving Scotland and Canada to talk to each other. Canada sighed softly.

"I'm sorry, Uncle, England."

"It's nae yer fault yer related tae such an annoying bairne." Scotland reassured while glaring at America.

"What happened yesterday anyway? Papa was very proud about something to do with you and England, eh."

"Damn right, he should be proud. He's one of that ones always trying tae convince meh tae improve me relationship with Iggy." Canada blinked in surprise.

"You improved your relationship with England?" That didn't seem right… If that was true then the two wouldn't have been in trouble…

"Aye! Wannae see?" Scotland asked excitably.

"Uh…" The shy blonde wasn't sure what to say. He had to admit that his uncle acting giddily like a child impatient to show a new trick to a parent was a strangely cute sight…. But on the other hand, the 'trick' could lead to something troublesome…

Before he could decide if saying yes would be good or bad, Scotland had already taken his vague reply for a 'go for it'.

"Watch this, Mattie." The red head suddenly called over to England. "Oi!"

Canada paled slightly, dreading what might happen next. England turned away from his scolding of America with a irritated look on his face. Scotland smiled a fake innocent smiled and waved.

"I love ye." Instantly England turned a bright scarlet from embarrassment.

"W-What?"

"I love ye." England stared at his shoes suddenly, his ear glowing a bright crimson.

"I love ye."

"Eh!" England flinched as the heavy Scottish accent came centimetres from his ear. His head snapped to face his brother who had crossed the short distance between them and was leaning very close to him. His false smile was gone and its its place was a dark, cruel smirk.

"I love ye."

"Uh." England stumbled back a few steps in shock at the sudden closeness. Scotland just closed the distance again.

"I love ye." England stepped back a few more steps and once again, Scotland followed.

"I love ye."

"Um."

And it happened again.

"I love ye"

And again.

"I love ye."

"Eh."

And again.

"I love ye."

And each time, England flushed a darker shade of red. It sooner looked like he was in danger of passing out from the blood rush to his cheeks and face.

"I love ye." America and Canada watched in stunned silence, unsure what to do.

"I love ye." It did seem like Scotland was somehow complimenting England but it also seemed like he was tormenting him at the same time… Plus Scotland's grin seemed to steadily get eviler as time passed….

"I love ye."

"Uh." Finally England made it to a door. With his back against it, he fumbled for the door handle frantically. His eyes were swirling slightly as he stared back at his brother who wore a sadistic smirk.

"I lov~"

Click.

SLAM!

"~e ye…"

England finally opened the door with a click and closed it with a slam. The frame shook slightly with the force. Scotland spun around to face the remaining blonde with a oddly innocent smile.

"See, Mattie. I haff improved."

The only thought that Canada could have at this moment was '_No you haven't improved at all. You just found a new way to terrorise England…'_

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

The baltic trio waited around Russia's house nervously. Though they had no reason to be there as they all moved out and into their own houses after the fall of the Soviet Union, they still gathered there almost daily. It only started happening in recent years.

After seeing how lonely Russia was when he was by himself in this large house, and how it made his sadistic and psychotic nature degenerate into something worse, they all mutually agreed to try and visit him most days.

In a way, it was similar to the Soviet Union day however there was very little violence, zero oppression and they were not required to cook or do chores. Though occasionally they would do one or two to be helpful. It was a very large house and it was hard for one man to do everything in it. However when they arrived Russia's boss was there instead.

Apparently Russia had not come home last night or handed in the paper work this morning. Belarus was also missing.

They had decided to wait just in case the tall Slavic man appeared later on.

After a while of worrying what happened, they had received a phone call.

The two siblings had been found!

Russia was stopped at an airport when he tried to smuggle his metal pipe onto a plane and Belarus was arrested after several assaults, all on ginger haired men. Both were returned back to their respective countries. Of course, Russia was scolded by his boss and was due to return home any moment now, explaining their nervousness…

That and the rumours…

Something about Scotland saying he was going to rape Belarus, Russia trying to kill France, incest among the British brothers and the Queen of England kicking ass.

The front door opened and a rush of freezing air blew in.

The cold wind was shut out again.

The Baltic trio rushed to the front door, expecting to see a glare or a creepy false smile. However he was smiling a genuine and gentle smile.

A big surprise.

"Uh, Russia."

"Oh. Hello Toris."

"Why are you s-smiling? Weren't you just in trouble with your b-b-boss?…"

"Da." The Russian smile widened. "But I have got a new friend."

"A f-friend!"

"Da!"

"Who?"

"Scotland."

They did a double take before they watched as Russia walked out of the room and through to the kitchen. Lithuania sighed.

"Well, it kinda makes sense. They are both drunken psychopaths…"

**(A/N - God this was a long, boring chapter... It was mainly just talking and speech... The rate of writing isn't too bad considering this was about 6000 words or so.**

**FINALLLY IT IS THE END! END! ENd! End! end! end. end... (failed echo effect.)**

**I didn't name this Prime Minister. Let's just say he is after Cameron.**

**I have never met the Queen so I don't know how her personality is. However it amuses me to think that she acts very kind and sweet but she is actually super strong with a nasty temper. She gets violent occasionally with the UK but she loves them very dearly and they love her. They helped raised her from since she was born.**

**When she was a baby, they were like her parents. When she was a child, they were like her uncles. When she was a teen, they were like her older brothers. When she was a young adult, they were like her closest friends. When she was an mid aged adult, they were like her younger brothers. Now that she is an old woman, she sees them as her children.**

**So they are very close.**

**The Queen has a guide of how to cope with the brothers... Every election, she repeats it to the new Prime Minister.**

**I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY WANT TO WRITE A STORY WHERE SCOTLAND COPES WITH NO LONGER SMOKING!**

**The. Queen. Kicks. Ass.**

**No serious. She does. She's a bad ass in my mind because I want it to be. The world would be a much better place if she was.**

**Aw~ Russia made a friend.**

**And now a QUESTION! (Please Answer Honestly):**

**Has Scotland actually improved his relationship with England or found a new way to torture him?**

**I'm curious to your take on the ending.**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	49. Story 9 Chapter 1 One shot

**Illness.**

"Hey England! You totally missed the meeting dude! It was awesome! I presented my totally cool idea about giant robots!" America crashed into the large cottage. He glanced around the hallway, looking for a blonde gentleman. France followed after him.

"Euh. Angleterre waz probably juzt 'iding after realizing just 'ow hideous 'iz eyebrows are."

"Really?" France shook his head at America's naivety.

"Oui." America crashed through a couple of rooms, searching for England.

"Dude! Where are you?" He yelled needlessly loud as he walked down the upstairs corridor.

A loud cough responded as a door open.

A red faced, disorientated green eyed man stumbled from a room. He looked around dazed, before disappearing back into his bedroom. The two invading blonde men watched stunned. The action had been so random and they were surprised that he didn't yell at them for basically breaking down his door.

They followed after him into his bedroom to find him lying down in his bed again. They peered at him while he laid there with his eyes half closed sleepily.

"Hey Artie? Ya okay? You look totally shitty."

"Oui. Worse than usual and zat's saying something." England opened his eyes properly.

"Huh? Is that America? And France..." He smiled suddenly as if he was happy to see them. They both jumped back in surprise. He was obviously sick. There was a long pause before America blurted out.

"Oh Man! England's been proded!"

"….typical American…" France muttered under his breath before correcting America loudly. "He 'as a common cold Amerique." He said, leaning over to examine England, but not too closely. Most women and men do not find sick people attractive – no matter how gorgeous he is.

"A what? What the hell is a 'commocold', dude? Just speak English! I can't understand your weird language." France looked hurt. America had misheard France because of his accent.

"My language izn't weird and I waz speaking English…." He was ignored though.

"He probably is just sick or something. Don't worry! This hero has something to make him better!" The cheerful tall blonde pulled out a burger and placed it on the ill man's forehead. "Taadaa!"

France was silent. Was America really this dense or stupid?

In the silence a door could be heard opened and closed. There were footsteps as someone came up the stair, and one voice talking by itself. Obviously the person was either on the phone or a psycho. French recognised the accent.

"Aye. I jus' arrived. Aye. I'mma just checking on him now." He sounded annoyed and tired. Scotland entered the room, ignoring the already present two blondes that he was not related to, only looking at his younger brother. He raised his eyebrow at the burger.

"Aye. I see him. He's fine, he's jus' sick, tha's all." The person on the phone talked before the redhead randomly placed the back of his free hand on France's forehead and the back of the hand, the one holding the phone, on his own forehead. France blinked in surprise. It was strange behaviour but he remained silent due to shock and politeness. Scotland waited a couple of seconds before removing his hands.

"Nar. I'm nae sick eithar so it's nae the ecomny's fault. It's jus' a regular cold tha humans git." He had obviously just taken his own temperature, using France as a guide. He listened to the other person before scoffing.

"Ye wannae picture? Is meh word nae enuff?..." He sighed before holding up the camera lens on his phone to England. It flashed and he returned to the phone call.

"See! He's jus' ill. Canne I jus' gah home now?"

"Dud~" America began only to be cut off by Scotland's hand swiftly covering his mouth.

"Whit? Git Wales ta dee it! He's tha one tha' usually does it anaeway." America bit the bare hand and Scotland glared at him, removing the hand but placing a finger to his own lips, signalling for silence. He listened to the man on the phone more and scowled slightly.

"Aye. Fine!" He waited before talking again.

"Aye. Tah." He hanged up.

He turned to France. "Thankfully ma boss decided that Wales is gonnae be at tha world meeting taemorrow insteed of meh. Dinnae dare think of molesting him." France had thought they were talking about looking after England, but it was about the world meeting tomorrow.

"Oui."

"Gud. I'm leaving." The red head turned and made to leave when an American called out.

"Hey? Are you just gonna leave England here?"

"Aye. Yer here so I'm not."

"But he's sick I think!" The blonde protested.

"Weel, look afta him. Yer tha damn hero or something!" Scotland had soon exited the room. America blinked before grinning.

"Guess even he has to admit that I'm a Hero!" He said excitably and proudly. France rolled his eyes.

"Au revoir, Amerique. Remember tomorrow's meeting."

"See ya dude and don't worry about England! I'll look after him!" America laughed confidently as France left, after taking one last worried look at the hamburger that sat on England's forehead.

It had only been a few hours since America had been left in charge of a sick England but already he was bored out of his mind. He also had to go to that boring meeting tomorrow. It was in Belgium or something. It didn't matter if he was late anyway – the meeting couldn't begin without the Hero.

America had fallen asleep from lack of activity and was dozing in a chair in the bedroom. The door opened again as someone else entered the blonde's house.

For an isolated country with few friends, he had a lot of visitors.

The man came into the room and looked around. He sighed irritably, placing a large plastic bag full of various things down on the ground when he saw the man sleeping in a bomber jacket. He grabbed the man and carried him out of the room and threw him on the bed in one of the guest bedrooms.

"Edjit bampot…." He muttered quietly in annoyance. He closed the door silently, not wishing to wake America and having to deal with him.

He returned to England's room. He scowled at the useless cold, soggy hamburger on his face before tossing it out of the window. What a pointless attempt at a cure for a cold!

He replaced it with one of those cool gel packs that he had found at the pharmacy. It was apparently good for fevers. He didn't really know as the last time he was sick was 1999. He was sieving through the items he had bought.

He placed a thermometer in the blonde's mouth and read the temperature. He scowled as it read 39.8oC. That was a high temperature if he remembered right.

He was looking through the shopping bag again when England woke up. His head felt cold but the rest of his body still felt hot, sticky and stiff. The world was blurry, his head ached painfully and his body felt weak. He tried to sit up but a hand pressed him back down gently. He squinted at the figure and saw red hair but his mind protested when he tried to identify the person.

"Nuh… My head…" His voice was dry and raspy. It hurt to speak.

"Stay doon. Yer sick."

"B-but… paper work…" The figure paused.

"Donnae worry… It'll be gone when ye wake up agen…" England relaxed a little. He felt better, knowing that work was no longer a problem. He coughed suddenly and his chest exploded in pain.

"Wait a tad." The person disappeared. He could hear sounds from his kitchen that seemed too loud and noisy, which echoed around inside his head and made his head throbbed. The person returned and helped prop the blonde up a little.

"Drink this." He stomached gurgled slightly but he had no appetite.

"…No…" He struggled weakly to push away the bowl of whatever it was.

"I cannae give ye yer medicine 'til ye've eaten something." The voice sounded kind and loving, like it truly cared for him. England nodded slightly. He wanted medicine.

The red head studied the blonde for a moment. England had made no move for the chicken soup he had heated. It was just simple tinned chicken soup but he had added chilli peppers and garlic to help boost it's healing properties. Unfortunately the English seemed unable to eat by himself.

The red head grabbed the metal spoon and blew on the hot soup. He held it up to England's mouth and tipped it in. He ate it easily. He repeated this until the entire bowl of soup was gone. The blonde looked a little better already.

The red head took out cough syrup and a packet of paracetamol. He gave the short blonde the medicine.

England still had difficulty sleeping though. He kept sniffing and he had a hard time breathing. He tossed and turned a lot.

"Try and lie still… Ye need yer sleep…" The blurry figure's voice tried to soothe him though. It sounded so gentle and warm. It made him feel very safe. He relaxed but his body still groaned. The medicine still hadn't taken effect yet.

He moaned quietly. Even though it was fuzzy, he could see the side of the red haired man's mouth turn down in a frown.

"It's okay… ye'll be fine… I promise…" England nodded, red faced and weak.

"Will it help if I sing a wee lullaby?" England nodded again, staring up happily at the man who was helping him out so carefully and fondly.

"Oor màthair used tah sing this tah meh when we was a wee babes…. But I doubt ye canne remember tha'…"

England tried to think and remember the tune and this person as he began to hum the tune. It was long before he was singing.

"Bà i ù o hò  
>Bà i ù o hò<br>Bà i ù o hò  
>Bà i ò ho bà"<p>

The words were strange and he couldn't understand stand it. He wondered if this was because of the cold or if it was just a different language.

"Gheibh thu bainne bhuam  
>Gheibh thu bainne bhuam<br>Gheibh thu bainne bhuam  
>Chan ann fuar ach blàth<p>

Cha bhi mise bhuat  
>Cha bhi mise bhuat<br>Cha bhi mise bhuat  
>Mach air uair no dhà"<p>

He soon stopped trying to think though as the song slowly began to relieve him. It was slow, quiet, peaceful and steady and though the voice was slightly gruff and an average singer, England still began to doze off.

"Caidil thusa luaidh  
>Caidil thusa luaidh<br>Caidil thusa luaidh  
>Is na gluais gu là "<p>

Soon he was asleep peaceful and the red head stood up and left him to slumber.

During the night, a certain red hair man, kept revisiting the room, checking up on the blonde. When the blonde was too hot, he would place a new cool pack on his forehead. When the blonde was too cold, he would place an extra duvet on him to warm him up.

He would come in every hour to check his temperature and place some fresh food on the small table. When he wasn't with the blonde, he was writing, filling in paper work and writing long, boring reports. He stayed up for most of the night.

England woke up a while later. His headache was nearly gone, though his throat still hurt. He sat up dizzily. He noticed a bowl of warm, lumpy porridge at his side, a mug of lem-sip and a packet of lemon soothers. He drank the medical hot liquid and half of the porridge. The porridge had a sickly amount of honey in it, to help him eat it and to ease his ragged throat.

He looked around him, wondering where the things had come from. He remembered the start of the nightly a little. A kind figure that had helped him and sang to him so he could sleep. They were probably the same person. He peeled off the cool gel pack. It was still cold like it was new.

He noticed that the bin in the corner was full of the cooling pads, like someone had been regularly replacing them. There was a bowl of water, a wet towel and a dry towel at the side. He wasn't as sweaty or over heated as he thought he would be, so someone must have been wiping down his face and keeping him dry.

The room was dark apart from his bedside lamp. He stood up unsteadily and wrapped the extra blanket, which someone had placed on him while he was asleep, around him. He still had a fever so the air felt freezing.

He exited the room and wandered slowly along to the bathroom. He stopped outside the study as he saw the light shine under the door. He pushed it open slightly.

A man was sitting at a desk with his head resting on it. England crept closer to see who it was.

It was Scotland, he had fallen asleep.

He peered over his brother's shoulder and glance at the stack of paper that he was leaning on. He recognised it as paper work and, to be specific, England's paperwork. He carefully tugged one piece of paper from under the older man and read it.

It was well written and highly detailed, well doned and up to England's high standards of work. He looked at the rest of the paper. There was a lot of it and it was all done and filled out properly. It must have taken a long time to do all this work plus his own paper work for his own parliament.

He glanced at an alarm clock. It was 3:48 in the morning. England blinked.

It was very late….

Uh… early?...

It was 3:48 in the morning anyway.

He smiled slightly. Scotland had stayed awake all night, working and taking care of England. He felt touched and a strange feeling he didn't recognise…

He watched the red head as he breathed in and out gently in his sleep. He removed the blanket from his own shoulders and laid it top of Scotland gently, careful not to wake him. He quickly walked back to his room, after visiting the bathroom, and fell back to sleep.

The red head woke up at 4:00 when the alarm went off. His body felt heavy. He sat up and the duvet slipped off. He looked in surprised at the thrown blanket. He noticed it was the one he had left on England after he had began shivering.

He checked in on the blond, cautiously. He was asleep again but the porridge was partially eaten and the lem-sip was gone. The man smiled slightly, moving the thick spikes of blonde from his face. He trailed his long thin finger through the messy dirty blonde hair. England gave a soft sigh in his sleep. Scotland gave him a small kiss on the fore head before disappearing out of the door to fetch more food.

In the morning, England was woken out by a loud obnoxious voice and a sudden flash of green light.

"Hey Dude! Ya feeling better yet?" The door slammed open and England bolted right up. America had just crashed in. His clothes and bomber jacket were badly wrinkled like he had slept in them. England cleared his throat with a small cough.

"Yes. Actually I am. And do keep your voice down in the morning." His voice was still a little dry, but his fever was completely gone, as was his head ache. America ignored the second part.

"Awesome! Does that mean you will be able to go to the meeting today?" England shook his head. He had slept all night but he still felt weak and tired.

He was surprised he had gotten over the cold so quickly and easily. He would have to thank his brother later.

That's when he remembered that his usually cold and distant brother had been not so cold and distant and had actually taken care of him. He stood up and walked out his room, past America, down the hallway and into the study.

Scotland was gone, so was his paperwork assumedly sent off to his boss. America had followed him, chatting non-stop.

He returned to his room. The porridge bowl, mug and soother sweets were gone, as were the extra blankets and cool packs and the water bowl. It was like the elusive red head was never here.

"England! Are you paying attention?"

"Uh. Yes. You somehow ended up in my spare room and you think it has something to do with aliens."

"Yeah. It was like someone just chucked me on the bed roughly. Obviously I was aducted or something. The aliens must have wanted to examine a hero like me."

"Hmmm… Did you see my brother, Scotland, this morning?"

"Oh that guy. He totally bailed after he found out you were sick."

"What?"

"Yeah. Yesterday, he walked in, told your boss you were sick and then left. He was only here, like 5 minutes."

"That can't be right. He was the one who looked after me." America laughed.

"You still feeling sick? I told ya, he left after just seeing you and left me in charge." England frowned slightly. He swore that he remember his brother being here. He knew he was sick but he was so sure that he was here….

He picked up his phone and called Scotland's house, wanting to comfirm the truth. It would be impossible for Scotland to leave after 3:48 and arrived back in his house by this time. It was picked up quickly though.

"Aye?"

"Scotland?"

"Och. Whit dee ye want, England! It's bloody 8 o'clock in the morning!" He replied angrily.

"Uh. Oh. Nothing. Sorry for bothering you…."

"Ye betta!" He hung up suddenly. England stared into space, keeping the phone on his ear, still trying to figure what was reality and what was not. He felt so confused. He sneezed suddenly, reminding him that he was still sick. He wiped his nose with a hankie and sniffed.

"I'm going back to bed… You have a world meeting in an hour… and if I remember right, it is in Belgium."

"Crap! I'm going to be late. Not that it matters. The meeting can't start without me!" He laughed loudly before leaving. England sighed and returned back to bed.

**In Scotland's house...**

Scotland slide down the wall, exhausted.

That was close. He had only just managed to use a quick teleport spell, just as America entered the room. It had used up a lot of energy and after being awake all night, he felt shattered. He yawned widely. A small fairy rested on his shoulder.

"You look tired, sir."

"Jus' a tad."

"You were looking after Mister England all night right?"

"Aye."

"So why did you pretend that you didn't? He would have been happy if he knew it was you. You two could have gotten closer." Scotland gave a small sad smile.

"Aye…. I guess it's jus' a force o' habit…"

**(A/N - I hope you like this story yoong'. I tried and follow your plot. I had fun writing it but I have a feeling, I'm not that good at writing fluff...**

**The song Scotland sand is a Gaelic lullaby that I like. The lyrics are sweet too. Here's the translation.**

**Bà i ù o hò**  
><strong>Bà i ù o hò<strong>  
><strong>Bà i ù o hò<strong>  
><strong>Bà i ò ho bà (Random noises basically- this part doesn't mean anything)<strong>

**I'll give you milk**  
><strong>I'll give you milk<strong>  
><strong>I'll give you milk<strong>  
><strong>Not cold but warm<strong>

**I wouldn't be away from you**  
><strong>I wouldn't be away from you<strong>  
><strong>I wouldn't be away from you<strong>  
><strong>Apart from once or twice<strong>

**You sleep my love**  
><strong>You sleep my love<strong>  
><strong>You sleep my love<strong>  
><strong>And don't stir until daybreak<strong>

**REVIEW please! I don't mind requests either. Warning next one shot is not fluff but the storys after it will be fluff when I finally post them. I'm not going to post them though until I have finished story 8 and 7. But I have written a couple chapters of them though so be patient until i finish these ones.)**


	50. Story 10 Chapter 1 One shot

**Pheromones.**

**(This is rated 'M' for language and certain content mentioned. It's mainly for safety though since there is almost no lemon. It not that much worst than some of my other stories but I wanted to be safe.)**

The mailman handed the French man a brown package. He stood on his door step and ripped open the mail package greedily. He had grown restless while waiting a whole week for his internet ordered package and it was finally here. He held his prize between his thumb and for finger.

It was a tiny, plain white spray bottle.

He shook it and heard the small amount of liquid inside slosh around. He grinned deviously before spraying it once on his wrist.

He sniffed it.

He couldn't smell anything.

He sniffed the bottle.

He still couldn't smell anything.

He had a disappointed look on his face. A loud obnoxious voice called out.

"Hey Francis! What the fuck are you doing?" France looked up and saw Prussia grinning and walking up to him cockily with Gilbird nesting on his head.

"Euh, la Prusse. I jus' bought thiz but zit 'az no effect." He said, slightly annoyed at the company that had ripped him off.

"Mein gott! Is that perfume? Ya a chick now or something?" France rolled his eyes. The white haired man sniffed his nose, trying to catch the scent.

"What is it meant to do? Can I smell it?"

"Oui." France sprayed his wrist again and held it up for his friend to smell.

"Nein. Can't smell anything." France sighed while Prussia laughed suddenly. "You've been ripped off! Kesesesesese!" France looked upset. Suddenly a yellow chick began flapping around France. France stepped away surprised and the bird followed him.

"Whoa! What's up with Gilbird!" Prussia yelled despite there being no need.

"I don't know!" France replied panicking as the bird kept diving at him. It felt like he was being attacked by the cute bird. He soon realised what the bird was doing. It was aiming for the hand that France had sprayed. Prussia realised this too.

"What the hell is that stuff anyway?"

"Ze pheromones."

"Kesesesese! Seriously France?"

"Oui!"

"Are you having trouble getting laid or something?" France scowled a bit.

He wasn't having any difficulty. Sure he might be in a bit of a dry streak but that was by choice! He was just trying to tempt the slightly less willing. Even whores get boring after a while.

Prussia laughed harder. "I can't believe you bought pheromones and they only work on animals! Kesesesesese!"

France stomped inside and slammed the door on Prussia. How embarrassing! That Prussia was probably going to put this on his blog as well. His phone buzzed and he opened it to find a text.

'France, World Wide Meeting in a week so meh and me other broths will have ta be there. Wannae gah drinkin' aftawards? Scottie'

France thought it was strange that the text had the Scottish accent but he couldn't complain. All his texts had the French accent….

Worldwide meeting were rare. ALL countries, states, islands and any other places that were personified had to be there even if they don't go to the regular world meetings or any other meetings.

It was a huge event for everyone and kind of over-crowded and annoying. At least he got to hang out with Scotland at the meetings and molest new people. He texted back a reply saying yes.

He placed the bottle on a table and sighed. He had bought pheromones that only work on animals. Animals were the only ones who could smell them properly so humans were unaffected. Unless they had the same sense of smell as an animal.

A sudden realisation hit him.

If a human had the same sense of smell as an animal then the pheromones would affect him or her. Luckily he knew some people like that. In fact he knew exactly five brothers like that and they would all be going to a meeting next week.

**A week later at the Worldwide Meeting...**

The meeting was going to start in about 15 minutes. The room was busy with hundreds of people of varying size, gender, nationality and age. Most sat at tables as they were regulars at other meetings and had seats laid out for them. The others had to stand with a sitting country that they were most related to.

Four British brothers and one Irish brother were standing out as they argued above the already noisy crowd.

"Tha's unfair Ireland!" A standing auburn haired man whined like a child, pulling gently on another auburn man.

"NAR, IT ISNAE!" The sitting one screamed back angrily. He seemed like the sort of person to always be angry. Sitting on his desk was a name plate saying 'Republic of Ireland'.

"Aye it is! Why dee ye git ta sit doon?"

"'CAUSE I'M AN INDEPENDENT COUNTRY! Ye want a desk at tha meetin', gah become independent and start coming tah tha regular meetings!"

"Ireland! Stop giving North Ireland ideas!" A blonde yelled at him before turning back to a redhead who was leaning back in a chair.

"And Scotland! Get out of my chair!"

"It nae yer chair. I donnae see yer name on it." He replied lazily.

"It does though!" He pointed angrily at the name plate that read 'United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland' in tiny lettering do it fitted. The red head raised a thick eyebrow.

"Aye?" He turned to look over his shoulder at another blonde who was trying to be as quiet as possible. "Oi Wales. Is England tha only one apar' of tha UK or am I also part of it?" Wales sighed heavily.

"Donnae drag meh intah this please…." Scotland waited a few minutes before the blonde sighed again and turned to England. "Technically he's right. If it said jus' 'England' then it would just be yer seat but it says tha full name of oor country."

Wales nearly always picked Scotland over England. "See! OOR country! This is meh seat as much as yers!" England crossed his arms annoyed. Scotland lit a cigarette lazily.

"Wanker." The red head said with a smirk. England grabbed his arm suddenly, losing his temper.

"GET OUT OF MY SEAT, YOU STUPID GINGER!"

"Whoa! IGGY SNAPPED!" North Ireland screamed. Ireland jumped at the English man.

"GER OOF OF ALBA, YE BASSA!" Wales stepped back and out of the way of the raging auburn man. Ireland was trying to pull off England who was trying to pull off Scotland who was gripping the table and smoking while North Ireland stole Ireland's chair.

The table was now moving slowly along the floor as the men fought over it by tugging at it as hard as they could. The left out blonde sighed. He hated being ignored but with loud, annoying brothers like this, it was impossible to stand out.

Canada suddenly appeared, along with Germany, and together they dragged off Ireland and England. Without a third person for Scotland, he remained sitting with a victorious smile. England stopped struggling in Canada's arms but the Canadian held on. He was quite a volatile person with his brothers around.

Ireland on the other hand was kicking and screaming in Germany's strong arms.

"LEMME GAH! I WANNAE PUMMEL HIM!"

"Nein! Ve are about to start a meeting and you vill behave accordingly!"

"But he attacked Alba!"

"NEIN!" That quietened Ireland and all the other nearby countries who turned to stare at them.

"Nov, Vhat is the problem?"

"He stole my seat!" England accused loudly.

"He attacked Scotland!" Ireland talked angrily.

Scotland shrugged like he was just an innocent bystander. "I was jus' sittin' here."

Germany sighed. "You vill all calm down this instant!"

England nodded and crossed his arms. Ireland was red in the face with rage by eventually nodded. Scotland took a puff of his cigarette.

"Aye but I'm nae movin' fer tha spoilt bairne." England gritted his teeth and Canada tightened his grip.

"Uncle Scotland! Try and not provoke England s'il vous plaît!" Scotland grinned.

"Awww. But it's so damn fun."

"Uncle Scotland!"

"Ahh fine… Ye ken I cannae resist me favourite nephew, Mattie." The fight between those three seemed strangely resolved. Scotland was still sitting but England was too afraid of Germany to argue any more.

However with 5 brothers, just because one fight has been resolved does not mean there is any peace. Canada and Germany had both released their charges; England went to stand by Wales while Ireland went to his seat. Unfortunately it was no longer empty.

"Paddy! Move it!" He said gruffly, still annoyed.

"Nae." North Ireland smiled brightly up at the towering green eyed man.

"Tha's MY seat! NOW BUDGE!" North Ireland looked cheerful despite being threatened by his older brother.

"Nee way!" The second most common fighting (the most common being between England and Scotland) were between the two Irish brothers. They were complete opposites but also the most similar. It was clear where this was going.

Germany and Canada tried to calm them down before it became violent but it only seemed to rile Ireland up more. Being told what to do what one of his pet hates.

Scotland ignored the fighting, preferring to continue smoking quietly until the meeting began. A blonde suddenly interrupted the escalading fight between North Ireland and Ireland.

"Have no fear! The Hero is here!" He made a peace sign and grinned widely. The two Irish brothers paused a moment before yelling at each other again.

America huffed. He didn't like being ignored. He saw England looking moody beside… England? The second England looked uncomfortable, slightly annoyed and kind of quiet.

He also noticed Scotland smoking his cigarette and had an idea.

The red head was staring absently into space. The meeting was meant to begin in five minutes. He disliked meetings, they were boring, long and seemingly pointless, but he had to come to this one. If it wasn't for the fact he was allowed to smoke during them, he would probably snap in the middle.

A cold squirt of water sprayed him in the face. His cigarette went out and became useless. He glared at the American in front of him with a hand water gun. He recognised it as Sealand's.

"Ye betta hav' a bloody gud reason fer doin' tha'!" He threatened.

"I was just saving these good people from your deadly cancer stick's smoke 'cause…. I'M THE HERO!"

"And heroes die young!" Scotland stood up angrily, knocking the chair back. He was just about to leap over the desk at America when two large arms wrapped around him from behind.

"Scotland!" A cheerful Russian hugged him. "You are cute today, da."

"Uh… Cheers?" Scotland squirmed uncomfortably.

Wales carefully took the water pistol away from America while he was distracted. America laughed as England suddenly realised what Russia was doing and tried to stop it….

By yelling….

North Ireland and Ireland were yelling at each other, Scotland was insulting America openly while he tried to insult him back, England was trying to ward off Russia from Scotland who looked ready to murder and at one point China had mistaken Wales for England and was currently demanding that the confused blonde man should pay him back England's debt.

Germany and Canada were trying to stop them while the Italian brothers watched fearfully from a distance. At least no one was punching anyone yet.

This is when France entered the room.

Of course it was easy to spot the huge pile of yelling, arguing thick eye browed men. France took out the small perfume bottle and sprayed it once on each wrist and on his hair and neck. It was only a small tester amount so he could see if his theory was true.

He twirled up to them and flicked his hair, sending a small gush of the pheromones towards.

"Bonjour, mon amis." The reaction was nearly instant. All the green eyed men became silent and frozen as they all stared at France.

France smiled.

That was a good first reaction. He could see the men trying to hide it but the immediate reaction and surprise were too much to hide. The ones who looked the most affected were Ireland, North Ireland and Scotland. England looked the least effected and Wales was somewhere in the middle. But it was clear that the pheromones affected them all.

Canada, Germany, China, Russia and America looked shocked. France had mysteriously stopped all of them from fighting at once with one sentence.

Scotland walked over to France and leaned in. He took a quick sniff before pulling away quickly. A light pink blush dotted his cheeks and ears. The redhead called out suddenly at the other four who were still standing, staring at France.

"Family meeting! If yer nae family then beat it."

The five miraculously huddled together without trying to rip each other's throats out and began to talk quietly and quickly amongst themselves.

Everyone stared at them. Many did not actually know who these people were, only that they were related to England and they argued too much, so this was surprising. It was even more shocking to the people that actually knew them.

"Maple…"

"Dude… Am I hallucinating?..."

"Aiyaa! I don't know, aru!"

"They are not fighting, da?"

"Something about this image is seriously wrong and disturbing!"

"Ja…." They turned to France who was feigning innocence.

"Papa. Qu'aves-tu fait?"

"Nothing, mon petit cher."

"Papa!..." Canada said sternly. France just fanned his hands at the only partially visible blonde.

"I 'ave done nothing wrong." Obviously no one believed him but with no other evidence to say otherwise, they had to trust him for now. The brothers were talking frantically together though.

"….It smells like…. vanilla, …lilies, ….melted chocolate and …something else….." Wales said quietly. North Ireland nodded, with a worried smile.

"Aye. I cannae tell what the other thing is either but it smelled really good….. Really, really good…."

"….Wha' was tha' smell France had anyway, Alba?..."

"It's probably pheromones."

"Pheromones?" England choked out.

"Tha' damn Frog!"

"How the hell did that bloody Frog get fucking pheromones?"

"Doesnae matter! He's git them and he's usin' them!"

"Calm doon Ireland! England!" Scotland snapped.

"We cannae let him ken that we canne smell them oor he'll keep usin' them!"

"I suspect he alreedy kens."

"Geez. I cannae believe yer friends with him Alba… Yer still blushing…."

"Shut it! Yer blushing tah!" All five of the brothers had a tinge of pink on their cheeks, though England was barely blushing at all.

"What should we do for now?"

"I dinnae ken. I recognised the smell 'cause the Fae tried tah use it once but it backfired."

"Backfired?"

"Only animals or humans with a strong sense of smell canne smell and are affected by them. Fairies spend alotta time aroond them so when they used tha pheromones, all tha animals went crazy tah." They fell silent for a moment before North Ireland spoke.

"We hafta dee something… I really wannae kiss him when he smells like this…" Everyone squirmed uncomfortably. Wales whispered.

"Meh tah…" Ireland spoke gruffly.

"Ditto…."

"Aye…."

"I regret saying this but me too…. Just a little though…" There was another silence but this one was very awkward. Ireland spoke angrily.

"Lemme jus' cream him! Tha'll stop him!"

"Nee! He may be a perverted bassa but he's still meh friend!"

"But why!"

"I ainnae tha smartest when it comes tah choices! Especially friends! Enuff said!"

"Let's just try to ignore it for now. It is only one meeting."

"Aye."

"Fine."

"Fuckin' hell!"

"…."

"Stop fightin' tae. Strong emotions and adrenaline will make tha effect worse." Scotland added quickly before they broke the huddle.

Ireland and England sat down at their desks while the others fetched chairs from other places. They all sat down stiffly, trying to ignore the tantalising smell that called them towards it. France moved his desk to right beside them. He took every possible opportunity to flip his hair during the meeting and send a blast of the pheromones in their direction.

He enjoyed watching them blush, glanced at him then looked away embarrassed, squirm and generally being affected by the strange perfume. When the break came, they all stood suddenly and walked out of the door quickly.

"Dude. What's with them? They're acting strange… stranger than usual!" America complained.

"Ve~ They are all running from big brother France." Italy pointed out cheerfully.

"Ohonhonhonhon. Zat is not possible, Ita-chan."

"Papa. You are hiding something from us."

"Non."

"You're lying papa. What are you doing to Uncle Scotland and his brothers?"

"I zwear zit's nothing!" Before Canada could ask any more questions, France ducked out of the room.

Once in the hallway, France took out the small bottle. He sprayed a lot more of the pheromones. In fact he almost finished the tiny bottle.

He walked into the room again, looking to see if the brothers were back yet. Only North Ireland was there. He looked like he was writing or doodling. It seems he was told to wait and take notes if the meeting restarted without the others.

Time to test the large excess of pheromone that now covered him completely. A couple of sprays had an obvious effect so he was excited to what nearly the whole bottle would do. He walked over and leaned on the desk. North Ireland looked up confused before his eyes widened. His face turned a deep scarlet instantly. France grinned and opened his mouth but before he could talk, the Irish country jumped over the desk and grabbed onto France's head.

He pulled the blonde forward and gave a huge heavy lick from chin to forehead up one side of his face before snogging him.

France gasped for air. This was too sudden and too much of a reaction.

Everyone in the room turned as France was attacked by the auburn's man lips. Hungary squealed happily while Japan began taking photos. Two arms grabbed North Ireland and heaved him off of France.

France was gasping for air, after having such a long continuous kiss, and looked up at an angry Scotland who was wearing two black nose plugs. North Ireland was panting heavily, bright red and still trying to reach France. Ireland appeared, looking equally as angry and with nose plugs as well.

"Geez! We leave ya fer 5 god damn minutes tah git nose plugs and ye attack France!"

"I…I… I-I need…F-Fr…. ance… F-France!"

"Fuck! He's like a bloody dog on heat!" Ireland said angrily, glaring at France who had regained his breath but was frozen in shock. "Yer dead afta this, Frog!"

"Come on Paddy. If ye dinnae calm ye doon, we hafta treat ye like a dog on heat."

"That means ye either git fixed or git a bitch and I'm nae payin' fer a fucking prostitute fer ye!" The red head began dragging him away while he squirmed and clawed hopelessly, still trying to reach France.

He managed to wrestle his way partially from Scotland, enough to grab Ireland by the chest. He pulled the shocked older brother towards him and planted a kiss on his lips. A couple of whistles sounded and Hungary squealed again.

Scotland pulled him back again, looking absolutely shocked.

Ireland looked traumatised though, as he stumbled back. He bumped into France, knocking his nose plugs out and the small white bottle of pheromones from France's pocket.

Scotland grabbed his brother's nose with one hand, while having his other arm wrapped around North Ireland's waist. Ireland wiggled in pain but if Scotland let go of his nose, he would detect the pheromones and end up like his younger brother.

France snapped out of his frozen state.

That was an amazing kiss. A bit rough and very desperate but still a very good kiss.

He wanted more!

A lot more!

Like a harem full, with five thick eye browed men all desperate to shag him!

It felt like the pheromones were beginning to work on him too or something.** (A/N – France is being affected by pheromones that North Ireland is beginning to release. When animals want sex they begin to release pheromones too. Since North Ireland is horny because of France's pheromones, he is making pheromones himself, making France horny…. Or would it be hornier? He's always a bit horny…)**

He looked and saw that Ireland's nose plugs were on the floor and Scotland was trapped, trying to hold one horny brother down and stop Ireland from smelling the heavy air of pheromones. He couldn't use his hands to defend himself from France, if he decided to just remove the two nose plugs he had.

"Oh L'Ecosse!~ Let big brother take thoze ennoying nez plugz!"

"France, I'm aulder! And git away from meh!"

"Ohonhonhon!" He reached up for the nose plugs when another man yelled.

"FROGFACE!"

_Splash! _A bucket of freezing water crashed into the blonde.

England grinned widely with a victorious look on his face.

"That was bloody fun."

"Aye. Fucking dandy! Now help meh!" Wales and England also had nose plugs. Scotland released Ireland's nose and removed his own nose plugs in relief. Not being able to smell unsettled him deeply.

The two dragged North Ireland away. The cold bucket of water had washed away the heavy smell of pheromones that France had. They came back less than 10 minutes later without the red faced country.

France was panicking over his hair and expensive silk clothes when he suddenly found himself closely surrounded by four pairs of glaring green eyes. They spoke in angry hushed voices so only France could hear them.

"Euuh…. L'Ecosse! Zis iz zilk! Tu cannot get it wet!"

"Belt up Frog face! Give us a reason why we shouldn't just kill you now, you wanker."

"Uh…"

"First off. Where's tha remaining pheromones?"

"I do not know what tu are tal~"

"France!" Ireland snarled in a very animal and scary way.

France cowered. He reached into his pocket to take out the white bottle. He began to search frantically.

"I don't know! I think I lost it!" Ireland grabbed the blonde's collar angrily.

"Whit de ya mean 'I think I lost it'!" Usually Scotland would intervene and save his friend from any harm but this time, he just watched coldly.

"Ahhhh! Don't hurt me!"

"France! Ye git five seconds to give meh tha' bottle or else."

"L'Ecosse! I'm sorry! Stop him! S'il vous plait!" France was basically begging for his life. Scotland's face softened before the back of his hand collided with the blonde's cheek. France was surprised by the blow so he crumpled to the ground easily. The rest of the brothers stepped forward as if to attack but Scotland's voice stopped them.

"Stop." They turned to him confused. "France isnae lying and he's meh friends so only I hafta right tah take revenge…." England glared at France.

"I have my right too! We are rivals!"

"Tuff! I'm taken revenge fer all of us!"

Wales spoke angrily and quietly. "Aye but we wanne moore than one hit, Alba. He dared to challenge oor family and threaten oor blood!"

Ireland nodded. "Aye. We require moore than a gentle pat tah tha cheek!"

England wasn't surprised by his brother's anger or blood lust. This was almost a taboo in their family. They were usually vicious and vengeful when tempted or angered like this, like wild animals, and it was only made worst by the recently drawn out animal instincts. Only fools made enemies of them. Or France in this case who was desperate to have sex….

"Aye but nae here." France cowered as Scotland glared him down. "France. Ye should be happy tha's it meh!" France flinched but nodded. Scotland had hit him lightly, he knew that, and if it was anyone else, they would have been thumped as hard as he could. He stood up and opened his mouth to speak another apology when Russia's voice distracted them all.

"Is this what France was using on Scotland, da?"

"I wonder what it is, aru?" There was the sound of it being sprayed once.

"Dude. It doesn't smell or anything!"

"Veh~ It's is very strange. Big brother France, what is this?" Italy was holding it out. It seems that the others had been distracted by the white bottle and had missed France being hit.

"Ahh…" France paused and glanced at Scotland and Ireland who were holding their breath. Scotland stepped forward.

"It's a repellent. It smells absolutely horrible to us. We haff quite sensitive noses." He spoke rushed so he could speak before he ran out of breath. Ireland nodded quickly, not risking trying to talk.

"Oh." Italy examined it carefully before spraying it again so it spurted out its last drop of pheromone, much to their relief.

"Really?" He nodded, after quickly running out of air. Wales started speaking instead.

"Canne we hav' that then? We donnae like othas havin' it."

"Si! Ve~" Italy happily handed the small bottle to the blonde.

"Here you go, England."

"Wales."

"Oh right. Sorry, ve~." He passed the bottle to Scotland, who made it disappear somehow.

Scotland eventually had to breathe again. The pheromones attacked his sense again and he started blushing again. He swore under his breath ads he tensed his body to stop himself from doing something he would regret.

Luckily Wales had confiscated Sealand's water gun off of America earlier so he sprayed Scotland in the face quickly. Scotland glared at Wales and wiped his face. It had gotten rid of the smell of pheromones but he still didn't like it.

Ireland had started wearing the plugs again. England was standing threateningly by France, who looked like he was trying to disappear like Canada when the meeting finally resumed.

France was suddenly regretting moving his chair so close to Britain as four glares promised him that this dry sex streak was only the start of his problems...

**(A/N - This was my second specific request and it was done by my real life friend who I will call X. X has a slightly perverted mind and begged me to write a story involving France, all five of the bothers and some sort of purfume. I finally relented. I hope you like this X and sorry... I didn't put any actual sex in it despite your demands...**

**You can thank X for this story.**

**This story is only rated M for safety. I wasn't really planning any more M storys unless requested. Lemon may be accepted but only if I like the plot suggested. Senseless sex doesn't appeal to me... unless it's between hot guys... hmmm? Does that mean no Hetalia sex is pointless?...**

**Fine Lemon requests is accepted if I'm in the mood.**

**Now accepting requests!**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	51. Story 11 Chapter 1

**A Day in the life of the Brother I**

He was in a dark place and something was prodding his cheeks.

"Alba! Alba!" He grumbled before opening his eyes to stare at an auburn haired boy, only about 5 years old. He was loud and annoying. North Ireland. He turned his head to look over his shoulder.

"Hey Brother! Brother! Alba's awake now!"

And angry voice shouted at them. "That's because ye jus' woke him ye ninny! Dinnae I tell ya not to wake him!"

Scotland sat up, scowling at the young North Ireland, just as a 6 year old Ireland ran up to them. He tackled North Ireland, sitting on top of him. He gave his younger sibling a rough noogie, messing up his tangled hair more. Ireland managed to talk to Scotland at the same time.

"Sorry aboot tha' Alba! Ye ken North Ireland! He cannae keep his pussie shut fer nuffin'!" North Ireland pushed up, knocking Ireland off balance. He turned on his brother, with balled fists, and began fighting with him. They were tugging at each other's hair and cloaks and throwing punches as hard as they could.

This 'fighting' was common for them as children. None of the fights were ever serious and were considered a form of playing to them. In some ways, they were closer to animals than humans. Scotland grinned and joined his brothers in the fight.

He was 10 years old, nearly 11, but he was still a good fighter. It didn't take long to wrestle both of his brothers to the ground.

Soon it was an all out brawl between the three brothers. Kicking, biting and clawing wildly at each other with all their strength. It ended after a short while with the three boys lying on the grass, breathless but grinning and laughing loudly. North Ireland was the first one to talk naturally.

"That… was… fun…" Ireland gave a weak shove to him.

"Sh-shut… up… ye ninny…" Scotland flopped over and pushed himself up to his hands and knees.

The play fight didn't end without any injuries. It rarely did. Luckily most of the fights ended in mainly bruises, and sometimes a couple of small cuts and bad bite marks. (The worst one was when Ireland forced Wales to fight with him and ended up breaking one of his legs. He got into big trouble for it. Of course that wouldn't happen for a few more years when Wales is big enough to fight.)

He had a bruise just under his left eye from one of Ireland's punches and a big bruise on his stomach from a rough kick from North Ireland. He body had some other bruises but he didn't keep track from who they came from in the midst of the brawl. He was the best off.

Ireland had a black eye as well but as well as a bruise on his cheek. There was a bite mark on his arm and his shirt was slightly torn at the corner. He probably had a few more injuries than Scotland but

North Ireland was the worst by far. He had four bruises on his face and his nose was bleeding a little. His bare arms had red marks too, showing that he was going to have bruises later. There were two angry crescent shapes on his hand from when he accidently put his hand in someone's mouth and they bit.

"Oi! North Ireland! Yer nose is bleedin'"

"Whit?" He touched his nose with a small hand and looked at the scarlet liquid on it. "Cack!" Ireland shoved him again.

"Donnae swear, ye edjit!"

"Aye! Mind yer coorse language. If màthair hears us agen, she'll yell at us!" North Ireland pouted as he was scolded by his older brothers.

"Aye…" He made to wipe the blood from his nose with his light green cloak but Scotland grabbed his arm.

"Donnae dee that either. Wait here!" Scotland stood up and ran into the bushes. He appeared a few minutes later with a huge armful of soft, fluffy moss.

"Use this." North Ireland nodded and grabbed a handful of moss. He held it to his bloody nose. "North Ireland. Ye cannae use yer cloak like tha'. It's a gift from out màthair. Look afta it, aye?"

"Aye." Ireland looked at Scotland carefully. He always noticed how much Scotland cared for their mother and any gift that they got from her. Scotland looked up at the sky. The sun was high.

"It's almost lunch." He looked at the two Irish boys. "Where's Iggy and Cymru?"

North Ireland tried to speak but was muffled by the moss so Ireland took responsibility in answering.

"Wales will be with either the sheep or the dragons or both. He's always playing with them and Iggy will probably be with him or somethin'." Scotland nodded.

"Let's patch oor selves up and go find them."

"Aye." The other two brothers stood up, North Ireland abandoned his moss. Scotland still had a pile of moss in his arms.

The three children began running though the dense forest. The leafy ferns that squeezed themselves between the thick trees were wet with dew and ran. The branches were low and moving was hard. The boys were used to the surroundings though and didn't think twice about the dozens of tiny scratches that they got from the low branches and close trees and thorny bushes as they easily navigated through them, using their short heights to crawl under and over any obstacle. Fairies soon joined the sprint, along with a couple other magical creatures. They finally broke out of the edge of the woods and into a field.

The grass came up to their chests and the whole place was covered in patches of ferns, moss and heather. They looked around grinning at the view before them.

It was a wide and open space. In the background, you could see huge hills, covered in trees or heather. There were many white dots on a particular hill that the brothers knew were sheep. **(A/N – I'll talk a little about this at the end.)** This was their country, their mother's country, Britannia.

The fairies stopped and hovered by them. "Sirs! You three are a mess!"

They looked at each other. They had scratches from the wild run and twigs and leaves tangled in their hair and clothes. Scotland had a particularly bad one on his cheek that was bleeding. They laughed a little while the fairies scowled before joining in the laughter.

They were nearly always a mess from running around wildly, fighting in mud and acting like little animals. Britannia didn't usually reprimand them for being so filthy. They were young boys who lived away from normal humans in the forests where they were raised and grew up in.

A gnome approached them. "Do you three need anything? Your mother did leave us in charge to make sure you stay safe." Ireland didn't miss the flash of disappointment and rejection that flashed across Scotland's face. Their mother wasn't here again today. Soon Scotland was grinning again though.

"Aye. We need some clooth to patch oor selve up." The gnome nodded before scurrying off. The brothers watched him leave, pulling out the twigs from their hair and clothes.

Suddenly North Ireland gasped and pointed excitably down the hill. "Look! Brothers! Unicorns! And they're coming this way!"

The two turned their heads to see a wild herd of white horses running in their direction. They were beautiful, almost glowing and their pelts the purest white, and on their heads were a single, twisted silver horn. They flattened the rough landscape in their trample.

The boys suddenly began cheering and whooping with their arms in their air. They cried out loudly to the horses who continued their canter, ignoring the three small, wild children. The horses rushed past them in a stampede, almost trampling the children. The children stood in the middle of the herd as it split and rushed around them.

Scotland suddenly started running alongside them. Seeing their older brother do this, the other two quickly joined in. The horses were a lot faster than them but the boys tried to keep up and remain in the herd with them.

They screamed with delight and ecstasy at the freedom of running with unicorns. Soon though the herd left them behind and they slowed to a stop. They were breathing heavily again but still grinning widely.

To their surprise, a couple of unicorns stopped and stayed with the children. They seemed interested in the little boys who had tried to join their canter. A unicorn trotted up to Scotland who held out a scoop of grass. It sniffed it before, nudging his hand with its snout. He stroked it gently.

"Yer a beauty…" The second unicorn went up to the Irish boys and they cooed over it. The fairies caught up with the boys.

"Sirs! Are you okay? All we saw were the unicorns surrounding you and when the dust and the unicorns cleared, you were gone!" The fairy sounded panicked.

"Aye! We're dandy!" Scotland said cheerfully. North Ireland was busy, talking excessively to the unicorn while Ireland tried to get him to be quiet without scaring away the animal.

The gnome reappeared, out of breathe, and the horse snorted at the tiny man. He carried a sheet of light brown material.

"Here you go, sirs. It came from the elves." He said gruffly.

Scotland knelt down, placing the moss on the ground. He took the fabric and ripped a huge stripe from the cloth. He lifted up his shirt and packed a little moss on the large bruise on his stomach. He wrapped the cloth around the moss, keeping it in place. The other brothers followed suit, wrapping up any serious bruises. Scotland folded up a little bit of moss in a small square of brown fabric. He placed it on his cut and used another strip of material to tie to his face.

When the three were done, they resembled mummies. A fairy sighed before fixing their bandages so they looked neater and had less loose bandages. North Ireland grinned widely.

"Now let's go find oor wee broths!" The unicorns suddenly knelt down by them and they gaped at it.

North Ireland suddenly jumped on the closest one, a little too roughly so it whinnied in annoyance. Ireland yelled at him for being too jumpy and maybe hurting the unicorn. Ireland pulled North Ireland's cloak backwards, forcing him to the back of the animal, so he could sit up front.

Scotland laughed at this while North Ireland pouted about not being in the front. Scotland had a unicorn to his self.

The fairy and the gnome were shocked that two wild unicorns would stop for humans but this was beyond amazing, letting the boys actually ride them.

They rode them uneasily as they gripped the mane of the speedy majestic animal. They found that the unicorns were taller and more muscular than regular horses.

**(A/N – Scotland, the Highlands in particular, is wet. Very wet. In fact the wettest place in Europe. The Highlands, where I live, has the greatest average rainfall in Europe and the wettest summer too. Now it may seem that this would be good for the plants living here but to be honest, most of the plants are weeds or grass or trees. Hence in the past, people didn't try to invade Scotland for farming land but grazing land. Our hill are covered with sheep and cows! We just let them roam wildly as well! You take a drive through the hilly areas and you see sheep standing in strange places… Like the middle of a cliff with a 20ft drop below and a 15ft climb above. There is hardly any fences and they just eat random things they find. Scottish sheep are tough sheep in other words. And excellent mountain climbers too.**

**I'm leaving to go to Turkey for a fortnight in about…. 1 hour.**

**Since I didn't have time to finish the Story 7 and 8 chapters and I didn't want to abandon you for two weeks with no up-dates so I decided to post this story! Hope you enjoy it. **

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	52. Story 11 Chapter 2

**A Day in the life of the Brother II**

They quickly found Wales, he never moved far from where the brothers slept at night due to his age.

He sat in a huge field, covered in wild flowers and tall grass which brushed against their waists. Part of the field had been flattened by dragons so shorter beings could sit and lie in it without fear of being swallowed by the grass. From above it would look like a crop circle.

The brothers never feared for their brother's safety, even though he was a 3 year old in the Britannia wilderness, because he had dragons protecting him. They found the blonde sitting against the belly of a red dragon, which was about the size of an elephant, brushing a lamb.

Out of the five brothers, dragons preferred him. They guessed it was because he was the only quiet one.

The field he sat in was clustered with wild sheep and highland cows too which moved clumsily through the high grass, eating large patches and sleeping lazily in clumps. The unicorn stopped warily by the dragon while Scotland called out to Wales.

"Hey Brother!" Wales looked up with a chubby round face.

"Albwa?" He was quiet, almost silent. The red head slid off of the horse clumsily.

"Aye! Where's Iggy?"

"Hwe's aslweep…." He pointed at a pile of moss and soft leaves at the edge of the flattened field circle, probably prepared by some of the mythical creatures assigned to the children. He had his dark green cloak pulled up, over his face so he could sleep in the bright sun.

Scotland paused to stare at him. He was cute as a baby. There was another reason why Scotland always stared though… He looked too much like Britannia.

He looked back to Wales. Wales and England looked very similar (Wales has a darker, browner blond hair and blue-ish green eyes) but there was something different about England's looks that made him look more like Britannia. It was the light green eyes that mirrored Britannia's perfectly.

He grinned at Wales who released the lamb he was stroking. It ran off to join its parents, crashing into the thick grass and wild flowers.

"Foos yer doos?" Wales looked up smiling a small, bright smile.

"Gwood! The dwagons lwet me rwide them twoday!" Scotland sat down beside him, also leaning against the dragon's stomach.

"Barry! That's my wee broth!" He ruffled his younger brother's hair and he quickly fixed it with a scowl. He was very different from his older brothers but they managed to get along most of the time.

"Dwid ye gwet in a fwight?"

"Aye. But it was only a play fight fer fun." Wales looked thoughtful for a moment.

They looked up when they heard a yelp of pain. Ireland had just accidently pushed North Ireland off the startled unicorn. He cried out suddenly in a high-pitched wail. Ireland climbed down from the horse and tried to comfort him as huge tears began rolling down his cheek.

"S-S-STUPID BR-BROTHER!" Ireland panicked.

"I'm so, so Sorry! Please stop crying! I dinnae mean it!" Scotland ran over to him but he didn't know what to do either. They were only little children. The dragon flicked his tail over the weeping child, tickling him.

The boy soon began laughing loudly. Scotland smiled at the dragon and bowed his head slightly in thanks. The dragon nodded back.

North Ireland wasn't hurt by the fall luckily. Ireland hugged him after his giggling calmed down a little.

"Tá brón orm._" _North Ireland sniffed wiping his nose on his arm before giving Ireland a tight hug. Ireland got bored of hugging after a while and gave him a little push but North Ireland clung on. He tried to get out of the hug a little harder.

"Ger oof, North Ireland…"

"Nar… I wanne ta hug!" Ireland gave him a hard push this time and got him off but soon the small Irish child was clinging back to him again. The whole scene was about to break out into another play fight when a small high-pitched voice interrupted them.

"Albwa!" The three turned around to see England running towards them.

"Iggy!" Scotland stood up and scooped England up in his arms and twirled him around. England screamed happily. Ireland grumbled under his breath as North Ireland had his arms wrapped tightly around him, pouting.

"Awww… Why doesn't Iggy wanne hug me?"

"Cause yer a ninny with a big mooth." He rebuked annoyed. He felt jealous of the small blonde. Scotland held England to him in a big hug and carried him.

"Albwa! I mwissed you!" "Aww. Ye nae had to do tha'. I always come home ta ye." England replied with a wide, toothy smile and gripped onto his clothes. Ireland was still trying to pry North Ireland off of him while Wales watched them quietly.

"Hey Iggy! Why donnae ye run ta me like tha'?" England stammered little.

"C-cwause your too angwry, Irwelwand…." Scotland burst into laughter and Wales giggled a little. North Ireland grinned, releasing his grip.

"See! Yer too angry! Even Iggy canne see tha'!" He stuck his tongue out at Ireland, who was blushing heavily in embarrassment. North Ireland mocked him a little more, showing off his big mouth and his ability to talk (or mock) excessively. Ireland finally lost his patience and leaped at him. They began fighting again.

Scotland sighed a little but it was a happy one. Iggy was a little confused and had stopped smiling so the red head lifted baby England up and onto his shoulders. England gasped at how high he was when he was only just 4ft off the ground.

"Yay! Hwigher!"

"Nar. Sorry but I cannae go higher! I'm still wee."

"Will you lwift mwe up when you are twaller then?"

"Aye, of coorse!"

"Ahh! Okway!"

"Ye ken, ye are gonnae be tall one day too…."

"I will?"

"Aye! Ye are gonnae be huge!" England thought for a moment.

"Bwigger than you?"

"Aye." He paused to think again.

"Bwigger than a dwagon?"

"Why not?" He replied cheerfully with a grin.

Scotland knew that England would never be the size of a dragon and he doubted the short blonde would be taller than him. He wouldn't say this out loud but the blonde was smaller and weaker than the rest of them when they were his age. He was like the runt of the litter.

That was probably why Britannia left Scotland specifically in charge of England. He was always told to look out for his brothers but he was only told to protect and look after England in particular. England had become very attached to him because of all the extra attention.

He leaned forward and rested his head on Scotland's hair, running short, stubby fingers through the crimson mess.

"Your hwair is so swoft…." Scotland was walking with wide strides about by now through the tall grass, leaving the two fighting Irish boys and quiet Wales who was sitting by the dragon. Scotland blushed, speeding up a little.

"Cheers…" Walking in grass up to his waist was difficult, especially while carrying someone else. He looked up at the sky. Today was one of the rare days when it was sunny with no clouds. A light green thing shot into view, accompanied by smaller winged things.

"Och! If it isnae Flying Mint Bunny and some fairies!" The bunny hopped in the air around them.

"Hello there Scotland and England." England stared at the rabbit in amazement and reached one short hand forward towards the flying rabbit, trying to grab it or touch it.

"What brings ye here?" Flying Mint Bunny smiled widely.

"Good News! Your mother is coming back today!" Scotland stopped walking and stared at her.

"Whit?"

"Your mother will be returning later today." It bobbed excitably while Scotland stood there in a daze. England looked down at Scotland, confused by his reaction.

"Bwother?..." He prodded his motionless brother's cheek. The rabbit was starting to look concerned as well.

"Mister Scotland?" He snapped out of it suddenly and broke into a grin.

"Is she really coming home?"

"Yes." Scotland smiled brightly. England had rarely seen his brother smile like that.

"Albwa?" Scotland suddenly remembered England.

"Aye?"

"Mater. What is shwe lwike?"

"Och. Dinnae ken aboot yer own màthair?" He shook his head. Britannia wasn't around a lot recently. Scotland went on to explain how amazing their mother was (according to him) and England found himself bubbling with excitement.

Flying Mint Bunny had flown off ahead, to tell the rest of the boys along with a message from Scotland.

'_Cymru, Ireland and Paddy. Màthair is on her way home so let's gah hunting fer her! I'm taking Iggy with meh tah as he's ta wee ta walk back on his own. Cymru, gah home. Meet up at tha big rock by tha forest. Alba.' _

The boys were usually fed by their mother since eating fairy food was forbidden because of the implications of becoming a slave to the fae. She had not been around enough recently so the boys collected their own food mostly. It was usually berries and fruit that they found.

They sometimes ate meat that they hunted together. Scotland was meant to the main one in charge of getting food but he was still only 8 years old so the others liked to help. It was his responsibility as an older brother to take care of his younger ones.

Britannia wanted him to be strong and able to look after them for when she 'returned to the earth'. He didn't really understand what she meant by 'return to the earth', he had assumed that she would always be there for him.

He was starting to become quite a good hunter by himself, after being taught for a few years. Ireland had recently just begin his solo training but wasn't good enough to hunt properly on his own yet. Instead, he would aim for a target tied to a tree and try and hit it with his training bow and arrow.

**(A/N – Half an hour til Turkey! Don't have time to do a proper author's note.**

**See the brothers did use to get alone!**

**Any Gaelic translations here have been mention in earlier stories.**

**Sorry for the excessive baby talk too….**

**Review please!)**


	53. Story 11 Chapter 3

**A Day in the life of the Brother III**

Scotland took England with him to the big rock. Scotland already had his long bow and arrows and the Irish brothers were already waiting with their own bows. The bows were smaller, simpler and weaker than Scotland's proper one but it could still help in a hunt.

Scotland made sure that England would remain quiet while the others spread out and began their way into the forest. England had to walk, so Scotland could carry his bow in his hands and have his arrows on his back in the quiver.

He was careful though, to go slow enough for the toddler to keep up. He used his bow to lift up branches and part bushes so England could move easier too.

The four quietly crept through the undergrowth, sniffing the air like wolves, trying to track down an animal. Scotland saw the fresh tracks of a doe and a foal and the brothers grinned as they closed in on the clueless animals.

They crawled forward, silently and slowly. They came to a small clearing where the two deer stood grazing. Scotland doubted he could kill the doe with their level of hunting but he was sure about the foal, if they got a good first couple of shots. He silently commanded England to sit still in a bush.

The two auburns wiggled forward a little more, spreading out along the edges of the clearing, until they were in spaces where they could move their arms freely and had a clear shot to the deer. Scotland remained near England.

Scotland armed the bow carefully and pulled the arrow back. He glanced to either side to check the Irish boys were ready too. Ireland was 20 or so metres away while North Ireland was only 12.

The edges of his mouth tilted down in concentration. England stared in admiration; he had never seen Scotland so focused. He noticed that Scotland was holding his breath as he took aim. He released the string and it twanged, startling the deer and sending the arrow on its way.

The other two took this signal and fired their arrows. They sailed cleanly through the air bit only two arrows hit their mark. One to the neck and the other to the rump. The foal tried to run. The three children screamed and ran forward.

It ran around the meadow panicked as the boys surrounded it and surged around it wildly.

Scotland rushed forward, jumping on top of it, to secure it. It was still alive and struggled against the weight of the child. Ireland and North Ireland soon joined in. They wrestled with the animal, trying to still it and silence its cries.

They growled and snarled as the foal screamed in fear. England watched in amazement from the bushes. They were ferocious in their brutal attack, clawing and tearing at the animal with teeth, hands and nails. It was like watching wolves, the way they senselessly scrambled over the moving beast, trying to strangle out its remaining life.

However monstrous or animal-like this seemed, it was like life or death to them. They needed to eat and they could only hunt as small barbaric children can; with unruly aggression and barking and roars as they violently tried to kill the animal. It was beautiful savagery in a way.

Scotland reached into his boot and pulled out his knife, running it across the jugular messily. England stared enviously at Scotland's leather boots. England and Wales both wore little cloth booties but was promised real shoes when they turned 5. North Ireland was currently bragging about his shoes as he had only just recently received his. He was also complaining though because his feet were not used to them and he kept getting blisters.

The animal fell still. Scotland stood. The other two crawled off the mangled animal as well. The doe was long gone. He looked over to the bush where England was hiding and called out to him.

"Iggy! Ye canne come oot now!" England ran out and up to Scotland, hugging Scotland's leg. He ignored the tiny splats of deep red blood that covered him and his other brothers. Ireland scowled at England again.

North Ireland smiled. "Máthair will be proud! We managed ta hunt all by oorselves!"

Scotland grinned and patted the warm, messy side of the animal. It had bald patches from its fur being ripped out and tiny teeth and nail marks from frantic attacks. It had one main open cut on its throat from Scotland's knife.

North Ireland touched the blood gingerly with his finger tips. He smeared two thick lines above his already thick eye brows, making him look angry. He put on a fake glare and crossed his arms. He pretended to talk deeply and angrily.

"Oi ye! I'm really, really angry! Whit are ye gonnae dee aboot tha?"

"Pfft!" Scotland tried to suppress a giggle as North Ireland did a bad mimic of Ireland. Ireland punched him in the arm.

"Oi hey! I'm Paddy! I make moss look smart! I cannae close meh mooth fer tha life of meh!" He returned with a mimic of North Ireland. England burst into peals of laughter and Scotland laughed as well.

Sudden both Irish brothers dipped their hands in the blood and ruffled their hair, putting red streaks through it.

"Och. I'm Alba!"

"And I'm dandy!"

They both acted like Scotland who laughed in return. They began to joke around and fool about in the clearing, beside the carcass, pretending to be each other and other people and animals they knew.

They used some of the blood to draw little stick figures on rocks and other childish things that young, ignorant children would do with a dead deer. They didn't know what they were doing was considered savage or beastly; they had little boundaries from lack of restrictions and the wild surroundings while growing up. They were separate from other humans and spent their life, learning from animals and fairies.

They re-enacted the hunt a couple of times, pretending to hunt down North Ireland who had the unfortunate duty of being the baby deer.

After an hour, they began to drag the dead foal from the clearing. Despite all four boys pulling and working on moving the animal, it was very difficult to manoeuvre the dead meat through the forest. It got caught on low trees, ferns, thorn bushes and tall grass patches.

The boys grunted as Ireland and Scotland pulled and North Ireland pushed. England was pretty useless and only toddled behind them, trying to help.

They eventually returned to where the brothers sleep. It was a shaded clearing in the forest at the foot of a cliff, near the field that the sheep slept in. Unlike everywhere else, the grass was short and only came up to the knees at the highest points and most only came up to their ankles. There were no ferns, blocking the way or making obstacles and there were hundreds of tiny flowers in patches.

Usually they slept in the open, under the stars in the soft grassy moss or on pelts of animals. It also had a small cave where the brothers stored things and slept during winter, rain or bad storms.

"Alba. Tha' was quick! We expected it ta take loonger!"

"Aye." He dropped the animal and stretched in relief with a deep sigh.

"We git lucky. I wouldnae have git it done without ye." The boys cheered and whooped over their victory and successful hunt. They ran around the meadow that was their home like they were kings or wild savages. They jumped and rolled about on the grass as the deer laid torn and battered in celebration.

Wales was back at the clearing too and he joined in when he saw the kill. They all loved it when they could eat meat, rather than just berries and whets.

"Albwa. I want two hwunt!" England called out during the crazed playing that was basically just acting like little animal cubs, buzzing around a kill. Scotland blinked in surprise before stopping and ruffling the blonde's hair gently.

"Aye. I'll teach ye meself but only when yer aulder…" England giggled under the affectionate pat.

Ireland looked very annoyed with England suddenly. He was being taught to hunt by a trusted wizard friend. He knew Scotland was taught personally by their mother because it was necessary for his survival and theirs.

North Ireland had just started his lessons with using a bow and arrow a couple of weeks ago and by the same wizard that was teaching Ireland.

He knew that Wales was probably going to be taught by a different wizard though as wizards only lived as long as humans. By the time Wales is old enough to hold a bow and arrow, the wizard teaching Ireland would be long dead.

He felt jealous that England was going to be taught by Scotland. He stamped his foot annoyed. Being a six year old, with a even worst temper than his 26 year old future self (This is a great achievement btw) and little self control, he stomp over to England and gave him a hard push.

England fell over easily into some mud and began crying. (England is a big crybaby) Scotland turned red in the face with anger. Play fighting was one thing but randomly attacking like that was a taboo amongst the feral children.

"Ireland!" he jumped on the surprised Irish boy, pinning him to the ground. Meanwhile fairies flew to the aid of the crying blonde.

"Ye cannae knock over Iggy fer no reason!" He yelled angrily. Ireland screamed back too.

"But it's unfair!"

"Whit is?"

"It's unfair! It's unfair! IT'S UNFAIR!" Scotland released his grip so Ireland could stand up. "Why Alba? Ye love us all right? Ye play with us, sleep with us, hunt and eat with us! You hug us and kiss us and fight with us! We share blood!" Scotland stared at Ireland with a deep glare ash he threw the tantrum. Ireland continued screaming but tears were beginning to form and roll down his round cheeks.

"But then He came along!" He stabbed a small finger angrily in the direction of the crying blonde country.

"Ever since He came, you are always with Him! You're nicer to Him and give Him more food! You help Him more and teach Him! He always comes first! I want ta come first! I'm aulder! I want ye to teach me ta hunt too! Not Him! It's not fair!" He was now angrily trying to wipe away the heavy flow of tears with balled fists.

"It's not fair! Ye-Ye-Ye l-l-ove Him m-more! D-d-don't ye?" He gave up trying to stop his tears and began wailing at the top of his voice. Wales had stopped running. North Ireland stared at his older brother.

Scotland rushed forward suddenly and pulled Ireland into a tight hug. Ireland struggled and tried to move away at first but then settle and hugged back, crying into his brother's shoulder.

"Hush… Hush…" He had seen his mother do this before. Scotland bent his head and leaned on Ireland. "It's barry…" Ireland sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"Is it t-true?" Scotland held Ireland at arm's length.

"Nae! I nae love Iggy moore! I love ye all tha same." He said in a strong voice. Ireland wiped his nose again.

"But ye give him moore food! And are always with him!"

"Aye! That cause Iggy is wee! He and Wales are only 6 mooths apart but look at the difference of strength! There is a smaller difference between us and we are years apart!" Ireland looked at England was had only just started to calm down. Scotland's voice softened a little so England couldn't hear.

"He's weaker and slower. He needs to eat moore. Màthair told me to protect Iggy and I will…." Ireland had stopped sniffing.

"Really?"

"Aye and I'll prove it." He reached into his boot, pulling out his dagger. Ireland stared at it confused. The red head held it low for Ireland to examine before resting the blade on his palm.

"Whit are ye d~" Scotland suddenly ran the blade across his up turned hand, making a thin, deep cut on his palm. Ireland gasped and North Ireland gasped too but not quite as audible.

"Alba?" Scotland sniffed a little as a tear came to his eye from the pain which he wiped away.

"Yer me Deartháireacha!" Ireland nodded staring at the open wound. The fairies were still busy with England but a couple of them saw Scotland's cut. They left England to go and to tend to his wound but he just ignored them, staring intently at Ireland.

"I wanne ye ta be me Bráithre Fola as weel!" He held the bloody dagger for Ireland to take. Ireland grabbed the knife handle.

"Aye, Alba… I'll be ye Bráithre Fola…" He sliced his hand with the knife but the cut was a lot shallower than Scotland's. His hand began flowing with crimson blood as well. They gripped each other's hand and pulled each other's hand to their chest so they were nose to nose with their hand trapped between their bloods. Scotland spoke first.

"Is tu fuil 'o mo chuislean, is tu cnaimh de mo chnaimh.

Is leatsa mo bhodhaig, chum gum bi sinn 'n ar n-aon.

Is leatsa m'anam gus an criochnaich ar saoghal.

Me Bráithre Fola…"

Ireland repeated the vow.

"Is tu fuil 'o mo chuislean, is tu cnaimh de mo chnaimh.

Is leatsa mo bhodhaig, chum gum bi sinn 'n ar n-aon.

Is leatsa m'anam gus an criochnaich ar saoghal.

Me Bráithre Fola…"

"Do ye believe me now?"

"Aye Alba." The red head grinned before planting a kiss on Ireland's forehead. Ireland blushed. The Scot suddenly felt a tug on his cloak. He stepped away from the Irish country and released his hand. He looked around and stare an almost teary North Ireland looking up at him.

"Lemme guess, ye want ta dee a blood vow too?"

"Aye. I wannae be Alba's and brother's Bráithre Fola too!"

"Aye. Of coorse." North Ireland smiled widely and held out his hand for the dagger. Ireland gave it to him with a small scowl. North Ireland held it above his hand nervously.

"Uh…. Alba can ye cut me hand fer me?..." He asked quietly. Scotland smiled at his nervousness at cutting his hand.

Ireland giggled a little. "Chicken. I was brave enuff."

Scotland took the knife and held North Ireland's hand gently but strong enough that it was still. He laid the point of the dagger in the middle of his palm.

"Ready?" The Irish boy nodded stiffly. Scotland put on a little bit of pressure and the knife penetrated the skin. He flicked it quickly so it was as painless as possible. North Ireland teared up like Scotland. He used his free hand to wipe away the tears and held his cut hand to Scotland. Scotland took it and they pulled each other together. The vow was passed between them and Scotland kissed him on the forehead too.

He stepped aside for Ireland who held out his bloody hand with a small scowl. North Ireland was grinning brightly as their hands met and the vow was exchanged. Wales stood up and walked over to them.

"What was thwat, bwothers?" Scotland smiled before petting him with his clean hand.

"It's a Blood Vow." Wales looked a little confused so Scotland tried explaining it. "We were Deartháireacha, which is brothers who share blood through oor Màthair, like ye and me. But now we're Bráithre Fola as weel, which is… It's kinda hard ta explain but… It means we're bonded by moore than our màthair's blood but by oor blood too. It's a really special bond tha's unbreakable… Ye canne do it with other people but ye can only do it with very special and important people. Understand?"

"Aye… Cwan I dwo it too?"

"Aye but only when yer auld enuff ta understand."

"Undwerstand?"

"Aye. A Blood Vow isnnae ta be taken lightly." He nodded, not really understanding but hoping that he would soon.

**(A/N – I found this vow online. It's mainly used for wedding and people who wish to be blood brothers. Blood brothers are two people who are not related but are close like brothers and exchange a vow to stay that way.**

**The translation for the vow is this:**

**You are blood of my veins, you are bone of my bone.**

**Yours is my body, that we may be one. **

**Yours is my soul until our worlds end**

**Other translations are:**

**Bráithre Fola – Blood Brothers (Two unrelated people who have exchanged a vow)**

**Deartháireacha – Brothers by blood (like they are actually related)**

**The hunting scene was inspired partially by Lord of the Flies.**

**Review please)**


	54. Story 11 Chapter 4

**A Day in the life of the Brother IV**

Scotland un-tucked his shirt. He ripped a strip off the bottom of it. A nearby fairy scolded him.

"Scotland! First cutting yourself now ripping your clothes!" Scotland just grinned and gently batted the fairy away. Scotland rarely did what he was told unless it was his mother.

"But I donnae had any moore wrapping. I used it up." He wrapped around North Ireland's hand. He ripped off another strip.

"We can just get more from the elves!" He wrapped it around Ireland's hand next.

"But we cannae rely on them forever. Plus elves are wee and making soo much clooth is troublesome fer them."

"But! But!" Scotland ripped off another strip, much to the fairy's annoyance. "Fine! You win!" Scotland grinned wider.

"Cheers! Can ye wrap this around my hand?" The fairy sighed before wrapping Scotland's hand. "Barry!" He thanked the fairy gratefully and she blushed at the sudden attention.

The boys began to work together and wrapped the dead deer in thick cloth and placed it in the small cave beside the large clay pots that Britannia had brought from the humans as gifts. The pots were kept in the small cave and stored grains, dried food and meat. It was like an emergency supply.

It was hard moving it but the five young boys managed it.

The sun beat down on them. It was unusually hot and their warm clothes were uncomfortable with the strange heat. It was rarely so sunny but it was still highly valued. Though Ireland was annoyed that hıs and North Ireland's imfamous freckles had emerged in a spray of brown dots. **(Short A/N at the end)**

Scotland looked over his brothers now. He, Ireland and North Ireland were already a mess from racing through the forest but now there was a lot of blood too from the hunt and games played afterwards. England was covered in mud from his fall and Wales was filthy from being in a field of sheep all day. This was normal for them and the brothers thought nothing or the dirt and the smell.

The fairies were much more civilised in some ways, but more animal like in others. Though some fairy revel in blood, they all kept themselves reasonably clean and tidy. The messy boys were untidy and filthy compared to them. A fae bounced into view.

"Sirs. Would you maybe like to go play in the river? It's quite hot and sunny today. It would be a perfect for a swim or a splash around." It was a sly way of suggesting a bath without angering him.

"Aye" The red head burst out in reply. Ireland looked at him and nodded. North Ireland looked confused.

"But why Alba?"

"Cause it's hot and sweaty. Iggy is muddy, we are bloody and battered plus Wales reeks like sheep manure!" Wales crossed his short arms and scowled. It was funny seeing the 3 year old try and look angry or intimidating so Scotland laughed. North Ireland giggled as well so the scowl deepened into a glare. The laughter became louder until Ireland was joining in as well. Finally Wales smiled again and giggled quietly.

England stared at the four laughing brother and broke out into a smile as well. After the laughter died down, they had a mini race. The five were running at first but England soon fell behind so Scotland had to turn back and pick him up. Ireland didn't say anything.

They soon arrived on the stony banks of an un-named river. It was a wide, deep river than flowed fairly quickly. Scotland and Ireland were the only ones who could swim properly yet, and Scotland was the only one strong enough to swim in this part of this river. North Ireland could do a small doggy paddle for a couple of metres.

Luckily, due to some strange rock formation, a small section of the river broke off and formed a large shallow pool that was easy to swim and wade. The water from the river flowed into and out of the pool steadily so it rarely overflowed but it always had fresh, clean water in it. The water was perfectly clear and you could see right to the bottom of the pool and all the fish that lived in it.

The three older ones stripped first, unashamed of being naked. They were all brothers with no reservations and animal like natures. Nudity didn't worry them.

They tossed the clothes in a huge bundle at the side. They helped the younger ones, next. The clothes were bundled up in a messy mixed pile.

Scotland ran into the water first, kicking up splashes of clear water. The water was freezing but he didn't notice it much. He swam a lot with Nessie.

Ireland was not used to the water temperature like Scotland so he only went as far as his knees at first, deciding to slowly get use to the cold. Unfortunately for him, North Ireland sneaked up behind him, giving him a push so that he crashed forward into the water. He stood up again, gasping and shaking at the sudden burst of cold.

"Y-y-y-ye e-e-e-erse!" He was shivering uncontrollably.

North Ireland laughed until Ireland grabbed his arm and pulled him in as well. North Ireland gasped in shock at the chilled water. North Ireland splashed him in revenge.

Soon the two were in a splashing fight and moving around so much so that the two had warmed up, despite being in the water. Scotland joined in. They eventually turned on England and Wales who were hanging around in the warmer shallows.

They cause chaos in the waters with simple carefree abandonment that only young children could possess. Eventually all five brothers were soaking wet and used to the icy water.

They played in the pool a bit. They all enthusiastically splashed and ran around in the water, pretending to be fish, mermaids, selkies, dolphins and other water animals they have seen.

North Ireland made England snort water after pretending to be a kraken and 'attacking' Wales who squealed in return. Wales and England had to stay in the shallowest parts at the edge of the pool and wade or sit down.

Wales looked really happy to be playing but he looked the coldest too. He was not as used to the cold as the others and the dragons usually had to keep him warm. Even England could cope better than him.

Scotland swam to the deepest bit and dove beneath the water. He swam under the water for a couple minutes before bursting up for air. Wales and England clapped in awe. Ireland and North Ireland were nearly too deep to stand.

North Ireland was clinging to Ireland, trying to swim properly. Ireland kept trying to kick him off. Scotland swam over and helped North Ireland off of Ireland. The small auburn was scared of drowning. He held the hands of the auburn boy as he kicked wildly, learning how to swim. He coughed violently when he swallowed a lungful of water so Scotland held onto him until he was okay again. He smeared the reddish brown hair from his eyes and grinned.

"Cheers Alba." He swam clumsily back to the shallows. He waded up to England who was standing in chest high water, trying to catch one of the tiny fish that sometimes swam into the pool. He joined in by trying to herd the quick silver darts towards England. The small river life was fascinating to them and they were amused by their speed and different shades of silver.

Scotland and Ireland were scrambling over the rocks which separated the pool from the main river. They sometimes slipped but as long as they were not hurt badly, they continued recklessly. They climbed onto the highest rock and jumped into the pool, screaming.

Wales was playing a game of chase with two water sprites that had appeared. The waist high, thin creatures wavered in their watery forms as they threw water into the air in sprinkles, creating small rainbows which quickly disappeared. They stopped and stared dazzled in the air at the bright colours. While the children were distracted by the playful water sprites, a couple of brownies emerged.

They took the bloody and muddy clothes and cleaned them and fixed them. The creatures truly cared for the boys. After an hour or so, clouds began to drift over, blocking the sun. The air chilled a little and the boys soon had to retreat from the water while it was still warm.

They dressed in their clean clothes. They didn't put on their shoes again and left them behind for the fae to pick up. Their wounds and cuts were already healed, only being light wounds, except for a thin pink streak on Scotland's palm where he had cut a little too deeply.

The bandages had washed off in the water. They marvelled at how pruny their fingers were and how shiny and clean they were compared to normal. They walked along the edge of the river bank, mainly just wasting time and fooling around. Their hair, body and now clothes were wet. They shook their heads like dogs, spraying water over each other.

Scotland loved the way that the rocks felt smooth under his feet. The stones were shiny and soft from the river rushing over them. He picked up a big one and heaved it as far as he could so it made a large splash in the water. They all threw in a couple more stones before sitting down.

They had all been moving all day. Running, fighting, hunting, swimming, playing and laughing; they were nearly always constantly moving. They hated being still for too long. It was against an animal's instinct to be completely still. Hence the reason when they sat down, they still moved around and shuffled about. Sometimes a play fight would break out and be over in a matter of minutes.

England yawned. His four older brothers were still brimming with energy and life. He usually had to take regular naps or else he would collapse. He really was weaker physically. Scotland frowned slightly.

The four year old blonde had been sleeping at midday and it was only about 6. It was too soon for him to be tired. The rest of them were bundles of energy that stayed up late and waked up early with ease.

He picked up the four year old, pushing him up until he was holding him securely in one arm. England had his arms wrapped around Scotland's neck. Wales held out his hand and Scotland took it. North Ireland and Ireland were holding hands but this was normal for them. It was a long walk back to their clearing.

They had ran a lot and had walked very far so it was a mile or two back home. They walked quickly and cheerfully with a lot of energy.

They would stop often if one of them saw something exciting or interesting.

They laid down low in the grass and watched a couple of stags but heads with fascination.

They stopped and raided a huge bee hive for a handful of honey each and ended up running in fear from a swarm of pissed off bees.

They followed a will-o-wisp to a large willow tree where the tree's dryad and several pixies sat in the branches, waiting for passer-bys to throw pebbles at in pranks.

They listened to a wailing banshee which sang by the foot of a dying tree, signalling its death.

They talked to a couple of fairies which lived in flowers.

They raided a blackberry bush for its small bitter-sweet dark fruit.

They were easily distracted by the sights and sounds and strayed from their path many times.

The world is an amazing and endless place to young children. To them there are not 7 wonders of the world but 7 billion.

**(A/N - Now I'm in TURKEY! And it's only 2 days to my 17th B-DAY! I'm havıng difficulty using this keyboard so I am just editıng the already written story so you can read ıt easier - so no long notes.**

**Ireland and North Ireland get freckles when it is hot and sunny. Ireland hates them whıle North Ireland fınds them kinda cute. Mostly they are very faint and hard to see until Summer when they sort of explode across their noses and cheeks.**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	55. Story 11 Chapter 5

**A Day in the life of the Brother V**

Just before the sun was about to set, the children arrived home.

A figure sat on a large boulder in the field waiting for them. She smiled as the bare-footed children entered.

"It's rare for the shoes to appear before the people." She gestured to three pairs of boots and two pairs of cloth booties on the ground. She stood up at all five children ran towards, leaning forward to hug them.

"Mam!"

"Máthair!"

"Mater"

"Máthair!"

"Màthair!"

The young children buzzed around her excitably while she laughed joyfully and kissed each one on the fore head once. Scotland was still carrying England in his arms. Britannia hugged the cluster of children.

"Have you been good, boys?"

"Aye!"

"Oof course!"

"Ywes!"

"Aye!"

"Ywes!"

"Good. You are all so amazing. Ireland, how is your temper? North Ireland, I hope you were not talking too excessively. Wales, I see that your magic aura is a lot stronger; you are taking after your oldest brother that way. England, I hope you are getting stronger and Scotland, you seem to be doing a fine job, taking care of all your little brothers."

She praised each one giving them a hug. They blushed and stared up at her in amazement. She was an other being compared to them, almost a goddess. She picked up England from Scotland's grasp and bounced him gently on her hip.

"Where were you today màthair?"

"Did you miss me Scotland?" He nodded furiously, holding onto the bottom of her long dress. Ireland and North Ireland were right behind him. She smiled and stroked the crimson hair back from his face so she could look at him clearly. She caressed his cheek gently.

"I was with a man named Germania. Do you remember meeting him?" Scotland scrunched up his brow cutely as he thought back.

"Was he that really tall blond? The one with the braid?" She smiled and knelt down so she was kneeling on the ground.

"Yes. He is a very special man to me." Scotland frowned slightly and hugged the beautiful blond, still standing.

"He's nae as important as us right?" He sounded slightly panicked. Britannia laughed kindly at how easily jealous Scotland was. Her light green eyes which mirrored England's perfectly stared into Scotland's bright emerald eyes.

"No. You five are my most special men. No one can replace you. I love you all so much." Scotland blushed a little. England had fallen asleep in her arms. He snoozed quietly.

"Why is he important?" Ireland asked curiously.

"Because I love him too. He is England's father." The children who were still awake stared at England in wonder. None of them had fathers so that fact that England had one was strange to them.

"Why donnae we haffa athair?" Britannia paused. She didn't really know. Some countries had mothers, some had some had fathers, some have both and some have neither. Britannia herself had no parents.

When Scotland was born, she was only 16 and had no idea of how to look after and protect a young child. It took a while but eventually she was older and could look after a child. She was 25 when her second child, Ireland, was born. She finally came up with an answer.

"Because that was how you were made." The naïve children easily accepted the answer. North Ireland jumped up suddenly.

"We git a surprise fer ye! Me, Alba and Ireland caught a deer!" The other two joined in. They ran over to the cave and dragged up the big cloth package. They unrolled the messily tied fabric to reveal a small baby deer with small blood stains on it.

"See! We hunted it by ourselves!"

"We shot arrows at it!"

"And chased it!"

"And jumped it!"

"We were so strong!"

"And fast!"

"It was amazing!"

Britannia smiled widely at the deer. Its pelt was too tattered to use as cloth because the children were too rough and aggressive in their hunt but it looked young and would give delicious tender meat.

"Great work! We will be able to have fresh meat tonight! I'll cook it soon." She placed England on the grass by her side. "First though, we need to make a fire. Can I trust you boys to fetch the wood?" They all nodded. The four boys turned to run into the woods when Britannia's hand stopped Scotland.

"Scotland. Do you mind staying with me to talk while you brothers get the wood?" Ireland, North Ireland and Wales all glanced at each other while Scotland grinned.

"Aye." The other boys jogged off, looking behind them to Scotland. The woman stood up gracefully and Scotland marvelled at how elegant she was compared to him and his brothers. She walked out of the clearing and Scotland followed in a daze. He grabbed onto her hand and clung to it.

He missed her when she was gone so always tried to stick as close to her as possible. She walked through the woods, looking around at the trees. There were thousands of mythical animals were following the dual. Magic attracts magic and Britannia had very powerful magic.

"I see that your brothers are growing well." She paused. "Even England is looking healthier. I'm glad you are being so a loving older brother." Scotland hummed in reply. "Wales' magic ability has grown too. Have you been teaching him?"

"Aye. Just a couple of wee spells though. He is really braw at them. Even betta than Ireland and North Ireland." She laughed. He loved her laughter. It sounded like a silver bell. "Yes. That is to be expected of hım. How is your magic then?"

"Hmmm… It's still hard tae control and use properly…" He complained.

"I know. It's just the seal. It resists you using any magic at all so you have to try twice as hard to use it."

"Why dee I hafta hav' a seal? The others dinnae have one." She stopped and looked down at Scotland with a small sad smile.

"It's to keep you and your brothers safe. You have too much magic…" Scotland tightened his grip.

"I'm sorry…" He was apologising for something he couldn't control so Britannia suddenly felt guilty.

"I should be the one who is sorry. I wish you didn't need a seal and you could freely use all your magic all the time." She leaned down and gave him a big hug. "I'm so sorry. You will have to have this seal for the rest of your life." She sounded upset. Her light green eyes were glistening slightly with un-shredded tears.

"I need to check up on the seal. Okay?" Scotland nodded. The ten year old held out his hand. The blonde put a thumb on his palm and applied a little pressure.

Scotland flinched even though there was hardly any pressure. Dark navy blue, almost black, lines and patterns appeared on his pale white skin. They made Celtic knots, Pictic patterns, tribal designs and other indescribable shapes that interlinked with each other in a complicated way. They hummed with a silver energy and seemed to be alive and moving on his skin.

Britannia examined the lines and shapes with interest. It twisted up the left side of his face and framed his left eye and jaw line. It covered his back and shoulders and parts of his arms and legs, leaving some of his skin un-touched while completely covering other parts. It was beautiful in a strange, magical way.

It reminded her of Scotland's main people, the Picts. They were strange people, very different from the Celts that inhabited the other brothers and the south of Scotland, with odd social habits like exogamy, totemism, women warriors and a strange language that only they (and Scotland though he rarely uses it as his brothers don't know it and they are the only people he knows) knew.

They were a very distinct race that took pride in beautiful tattoos that covered their entire body in unique shapes and patterns. Another name for them was the 'Painted Ones'.

Scotland stared at his free palm with had crawling patterns flowing and moving up his arm.

"It's looking good, as strong as ever." She released his palm and the pattern faded back into his skin.

"That's barry, right?"

"Right."

They walked a little more while Scotland told his mother all about his adventures with his brothers. She loved listening to Scotland tell his stories. She wished she could be with her children all the time but she was often required elsewhere. Her small island has recently been in the midst of clan wars where humans fought other humans.

Germania had warned her that the Roman Empire had just conquered and killed the country to the south of the water.

The country had been called Gaul. She had only seen and talked to her once or twice and seen, from a distance, a child that was probably her off spring. That young boy, only the same age as North Ireland and with the appearance of a blonde female, would now be the replacement country. She heard that his name was Franks or France.

It also seemed that the empire had plans to invade her shores but she won't allow that as long as she is alive. While she lives, Rome will not be able step a foot on her land or her son's. Germania also assured her that if Rome did try to conquer her, he would step in and stop his friend.

She felt safe and she also felt that her children were safe so she felt content.

She was a little drawn back when she discovered that some of her boys had made blood oaths but it wasn't surprising, they were all very close.

"Did you learn any new spells recently?"

"Aye. I learnt a lot."

"Really?"

"Aye. Nae seal is gonnae stop meh from learning and using magic!" She laughed quietly and uneasily.

A seal was a horrible thing for magical beings to have, especially if it is one designed to completely contain magic. She was shocked that even after she had placed the seal on him, he was still able to use it if he tried hard enough. It wouldn't pour out of him in his sleep or by accident when he got emotional anymore but he was still surprisingly strong.

She knew it caused him a mild pain to use it but he loved using magic too much to be deterred so she taught him magic. He made swift process and soon was like any normal human wizard. It amazed her that his power still continued increasing as he learned more and more.

"I'll show you!"

The small red head held his hand out in front of himself. He concentrated on his palm, mumbling under his breath. Britannia could see the strain as the hand burst into flames. Once his hand was ablaze though, he eased his concentration.

He changed the hot red flames into freezing blue ones and then into bright white ones that almost blinded them and finally into black flames that absorbed the surrounding light and colour. Britannia was actually impressed.

The first one was a basic fire spell but the next three were obviously complex and the last one was easily one of the most complicated flame spells that she had seen. A flame that takes in light and heat instead of expelling - it was a spell against the laws of nature. But that was what magic was.

The flames flickered out slowly.

"I taught Cyrmu the first one tae."

"Did you?"

"And how ta breathe it oot like a dragon! He really loves the dragons and they love him back."

"You managed to teach him so much. You are such a great older brother. That is really amazing!" Scotland blushed under the praise. He blinked in surprise as they re-entered the clearing.

The pile of wood in the middle was quite big. Every now and again Wales, Ireland or North Ireland would run out of the forest to add to it.

North Ireland was the quickest, appearing every couple of seconds with a large pile of small twigs in his arms.

Ireland would come a lot less often but he would have far bigger bits of wood and more of it.

The 3 year old Wales was the slowest with the small amount of wood because of his age.

**(A/N - Scotland's fırst language was Pictich. No one knows what it sounds like or where it comes from so it is a very mysterious language.**

**Excluding Scotland – Ireland is the strongest physically, North Ireland is the fastest and Wales is the strongest magically.**

**Review Please! ö)**


	56. Story 11 Chapter 6

**A Day in the life of the Brother VI**

They finished adding the wood as Scotland appeared.

Ireland ran up to Scotland almost instantly. He stood awkwardly at his side while North Ireland just jumped onto the red head.

"Nae fair Alba! Ye dinnae had ta git anae wood!" Scotland scowled and pushed the auburn off.

North Ireland jumped at him and a small play fight began which ended when Scotland managed to get him on the ground, roll him over and sit on top of him. The Irish boy whined about his weight. The red head stood and pulled the five year old auburn up and dragged him over to the wood pile. He plopped the boy on top.

"There! I collected some wood now." Wales giggled quietly while Ireland laughed loudly. Britannia smiled too.

They may be a little savage and wild but they were happy and healthy. North Ireland crawled off the pile, grinning. A small dragon wrapped himself around Wales, who clung to it in return. The air was quickly cooling as night came.

Britannia used a little magic to light the fire before it became dark. It burst into life, waking England with a start.

Oranges, reds and pinks were starting to spread across the sky as the sun begun to set. A small dragon appeared at the edge of the clearing, drawn by the heat and magic.

The boys were busy starring into the sky at the colours in wonder and turning to see the source of them. The sunset always dazzled them when it was clear enough to see so they loved to watch it. They loved the way it always painted the sky with strange colours that was unique every time it appeared.

The brothers huddled together on the ground as they watched the light blues, reds, oranges and vibrant pinks be slowly swallowed by a dark ink blue.

Scotland had England on his lap with Ireland leaning on one shoulder and North Ireland on the other shoulder and Wales sat on Ireland's lap with a baby dragon clinging onto his head and shoulders. They all leaned back on a large boulder, sharing the same body heat.

The gorgeous blonde, who was their mother, prepared the deer carcass and cooked the meat. She threw away the useless, battered pelt away after she had skinned it. The children had been too violent in the hunt and when they dragged it back.

Fat dripped from the meat as it slowly cooked over the open flames, sizzling and filling the meadow with a tantalising scent. Humans would fear that this may attract wolves or bears or any other dangerous animals that roamed the ancient island but the family knew they were safe.

The meat was soon cooked.

The boys rushed to the edge of the fire to retrieve the venison. They held the hot meat in their hands and chew on it hungrily. They only had one main meal a day, the rest of their diet was just any berries or other edible things they find during the day.

Sometimes they had meaty steaks, sometimes a stew or a soup or sometimes porridge. The five children and the woman soon had eaten their fill, finishing the deer so there was no more left.

Night had completely set by now and the only light belonged to the full moon, stars and fire. The air was freezing now, except by the fire.

They ran around the fire a bit. Wales sang a song he had heard. He was a naturally brilliant singer and had a beautiful voice when he was heard. Scotland danced. He was a good as dancer as Wales was a singer. North Ireland and Ireland were only very good at river dancing and average at other dancing and singing.

They chased each other around the field, sometimes dancing with Scotland.

England, when he grows up, will be good at playing instruments but for now, he toddled around.

Scotland suddenly ran at the fire and did a huge leap over it. The orange and yellow flames flickered around him in the jump, barely touching him. The bright red heart of the fire sent heat bursting upwards, tousling his hair wildly and highlighting the bloody crimson with streaks of glowing orange and yellow.

He landed, barefooted on the cold, damp grass on the other side. He grinned after making such a daring jump.

Ireland was going to attempt it but was stopped by Britannia's voice. She told him that since he was six, he was not allowed to try. Ireland pouted and pointed out that Scotland was only 10. She smiled and said Scotland was not allowed to do it anymore.

She had pulled out some fur pelts to sit and lie on. One belonged to a bear, one belonged to a brown bear and two belonged to a lynx. The fur was thick and warm.

Wales was curled up on one of the lynx pelts. It greyish brown pelt was soft.

Britannia sat on the wolf one. She looked strong, young and powerful. She held herself like a queen. Her ivory skin reflected the fire and her long blonde hair, which was held up in plaits with buttercups and other wild flowers, had a silvery white shine to it. Her eyes were large and a light green, framed by large blonde eye lashes. Her eye brows were normal sized (apparently huge eyebrows only affect the males in the family and the females all have normal eyebrows). Her dress was a shimmering blue, and was so thin it looked like it was made of the same material as butterfly wings and reached past her feet.

She watched as her sons slowly began to tire. One by one they retreated to the pelts. Scotland lied down on the huge brown bear fur with England beside him, only taking up about a quarter of the full area. He held the small blonde before falling asleep.

Ireland and North Ireland shared a lynx pelt, trying to sleep. After a while though, they moved onto the bear hind, followed by Wales. They fell asleep quickly but Britannia stayed awake.

She watched her sons. The slept in a huddle of tangled small bodies, desperate to stay warm as the fire dimmed.

Scotland was holding the 2 year old England to his chest protectively.

Ireland clung onto Scotland's back with one hand while he tossed and turned restlessly in his sleep, occasionally kicking or punching the back of the red head and sleeping in an awkward sprawled out position, snoring loudly.

North Ireland had his arms wrapped around Scotland's waist using Scotland's stomach as a pillow, refusing to loosen his grip.

Wales was curled up into a tiny ball by Scotland's feet, with only his light brownish blonde hair and cloak showing.

England was hugging Scotland with all his tiny might.

The four younger brothers all gathered around the oldest one in an adorable way. The small dragon from earlier with Wales lied at Scotland's head. A couple of fae had already taken the spare lynx pelts and stored them back in the cave.

**(A/N - Their sleepıng habits have not changed at all in over 2000 years...**

**The animal pelts belong to animals that used to inhabit Britain years ago but are now extinct in our country.**

**A Welsh stereotype is that they always sing and they think they are good at it (though some argue against how good they actually are…). I think that Wales would be an awesome singer and people who would usually over look him, can't look away when he's singing. He can change his voice to match most songs; from high pitched girly voice to a low manly voice. He chooses to be quiet because he considers most of his brother's fathers petty pointless or annoyingly loud but when he sings, he is very, very loud.**

**A Scottish stereotype is that we are good dancers. Scotland is an energetic and quick on his feet but with little training, he doesn't know a lot of modern dances. However, if he took time to learn, he would quickly be great at them. He is also surprisingly flexible (France loves that about him for other reasons….) and his thin, muscly body is good at moving.**

**I have suddenly noticed that Wales hair colour jumps from blonde to light brown…. The truth is that it is both. (It all depends on the light, if it is bright it appears blonde but if it is dark it appears light brown.)**

**Review please!)**


	57. Story 11 Chapter 7

**A Day in the life of the Brother VII**

Britannia stayed still watching the boys until the embers of the fire dyed out completely and there was no light left. She stood up elegantly and walked proudly over to the boys. She knelt down and kissed each on the head before smiling gently but sadly at them.

A glowing orb appeared at the edge of the meadow, bobbing around attracting her attention and calling for her to follow. She glided to her feet and followed it with her head held high and her nobility clearly showing. She was authoritative and dominant and was obviously the one in command as she walked proudly to her destination, with her only guide being the faint blue glow of a will-o-wisp.

She appeared at the edge of the woods to come face to face with another woman, sitting in a stone chair, with sticks so people could carry it.

Half a dozen Ly Erg surrounded the chair, their blood covered hands glistening in the moon light as they stood tall in soldier's uniforms.

A large snarling black dog with savage yellow eyes lay at the foot of the chair like an angry statue or guardian. It was hideously aggressive with saliva and white teeth in full view as it growled continuously at her with the look of absolute rage and hatred.

An incredibly handsome man who Britannia recognised as a gancanagh leaned lazily on the throne, holding one of the woman's hands. It was obvious that he was some sort of consort.

The woman was easily recognisable to Britannia, even with her unrecognisable jet black hair on milky skin and ruby lips. She had taken the form of a beautiful woman in a dark grey, leafy dress that hanged loosely down to her knees but those black, condescending eyes that looked down on the island were so familiar, Britannia doubted that she could forget them as much as she wished she could.

Maeve.

Or Queen Maeve as she preferred, fancying herself to be the Queen of the rebellious and cruel Unseelie fae. It seemed unlikely that the Host would easily accept any ruler as they thrived on chaos and discord and having a Queen would dampen that.

"Britannia." The fairies all bowed from the waist except for the woman who just tilted her head slightly.

"Maeve." Britannia did not show any sign of respect back. Maeve twitched in annoyance at the lack of title.

"It's Queen Maeve or Your Majesty." Britannia smirked.

"I do not remember anointing you a Queen?"

"I am not under your rule!" Maeve snapped, her dark side slipping out, revealing her evil aura. "I can do as I wish! I am a powerful fae now. Others flock to me naturally so it is only right that I rule over them."

"Rounding up a dozen or so solitary faeries and convincing them to do bad deeds is not exactly what I call 'Queen-like'." Maeve reined in her emotions again and leaned back in the carved seat. She ran her finger along the cold, grey stone casually.

"Actually… nearly all of the Unseelie are under my rule except for a few foolish ones." She flicked a bit of loose rock from the chair. "And as a new Queen, I demand a tribute to celebrate my crown." Britannia raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me? A tribute for a false Queen? Do not expect me to do the impossible." The sitting woman smiled cruelly.

"A false Queen? You are mistaken. I have been accepted by Gyre Carlin already. I may have forcefully taken the crown for myself but it is rightfully mine now."

Britannia didn't show her emotions on his face but this was upsetting news to her. Britannia usually had strained relations with the Unseelies but Maeve and Britannia were openly in distain of each other. If what Maeve said was true then that would mean that nearly all Unseelies would now be an enemy and she would be required to give a tribute.

"Do you have prove?"

"Of course. Aergad?"

"My Queen." The beautiful man helped her to her feet, knelt by her and kissed her hand. She smirked at Britannia who was staring at Aergad.

It was almost impossible for human females not to be attracted to a gancanagh. They were fae that were designed to cause uncontrollably lust that would leave any human dead from craving. They killed humans with their looks and gentle touches alone.

And although Britannia was a country by spirit, her body was completely human. An immortal magical body though unless her people or land are weakened too much or conquered, then her immortally fades away.

Aergad stood and wrapped his arms around the black haired fairy and leaned on her back slightly, staring ahead at the island nation. She concentrated on Maeve who was analysing the blonde.

"Your prove?" The supposed Queen flicked her hand forward and one of the Ly erg stepped forward and handed her an unsealed letter. She pulled out the letter and read it aloud.

'_I, Queen Gyre Carlin, here by accept Maeve as a faery Queen and shall be titled as Queen Maeve from now on. She will be accepted as my equal and opposite as the Queen of the Unseelie. Seelie Queen – Queen Gyre Carlin.' _Britannia frowned slightly.

"See, my dear Britannia, I am a Queen, not by your anointment but by another Queen's. You cannot oppose this nor can you refuse to give me tribute." The blonde sighed.

"What do you want then?" Maeve sat back down and tossed the letter at a Ly erg that caught it. Aergad was standing by her side again.

"Hmmm… A simple gift. How about one of your sons? The oldest one of course." Britannia laughed coldly.

"Why would you want a child?"

"Fairies love taking the first born for our own. They make excellent slaves or lovers." Britannia tensed slightly but still made an effort to appear in control. "I have seen the boy too. He is sleeping about half a mile away in a meadow with your other children. It has a seal around it so only you can control who can enter and leave."

Britannia was trying to stay calm now but it was difficult. She was brutal and cruel to anyone who might endanger her offspring. Maeve continued heedlessly.

"My fae have been keeping an eye on you and your children… They are quite strong, surviving nearly on their own... The oldest one is interesting. His unique appearance to start. No normal human has hair that colour, the colour of freshly spilt blood, or green eyes that glow in the dark. His magical ability too. He is strongly gifted and if he continues growing, he will eventually surpass the great Britannia who stands at the peak of the magical world. He also possesses the natural ability of speed and strength. He may be wild and savage at the moment but I could tame him in time."

Britannia bit back a growl. "I refuse to give you any of my children… especially my first."

"You may have to. I demand tribute and I will not accept anything else below that." Britannia noticed suddenly that there was only 5 Ly ergs and the Black Angus was gone.

She glanced behind her in the direction of the boys. She knew that they would not be able to go near the children in the meadow with the seal but she worried anyway. She was suddenly anxious to get back to her children.

"Ask for anything else but not my children."

"What else can you offer?" Britannia gulped discreetly. She didn't have anything of value, especially to a fae or a queen.

Before she could open her mouth, a loud growling, rustling and a cry of pain stole her attention. The huge black dog had a leg in its jaws as it dragged a struggling boy from the nearby bushes. The Ly Erg was trying to stop the child from moving around so wildly.

He cried out as the boy bite him, releasing his arm. He tried to grab the boy again but was stopped by suddenly branches shoot out of the ground and holding him fast. He tore at them with his sword, fighting to be free from the vicious branches.

Britannia drew a magical sword from nowhere. The blessed steel blade pierced the trapped Ly Erg's heart, almost killing him. The branches dropped him and he was left on the ground to bleed to death.

The boy kicked the Black Angus in the jaw with his boot, forcing it to release his foot.

Britannia rushed forward and pulled him away from the terrifying giant dog.

The boy clung to her, burrowing his chest into her so only his blood red hair was showing.

She held Scotland to her, feeling hot tears soak into his dress, and holding the sword up to battle with the other.

**(A/N - Maeve is the dark fae queen in some legends so I thought she would be suited here. She ıs a shape shifter apart from her eyes that only remain black.)**


	58. Story 11 Chapter 8

**A Day in the life of the Brother VIII**

Scotland had woken up earlier, after feeling something touch his forehead gently.

He blinked his eyes open just to see his mother leave the clearing. She had a serious look on her face, the complete opposite to her normal cheerful face which he usually saw.

He squirmed his way from the huddle of brothers and quietly left the meadow, following after his mother worriedly. He only looked back once to check that they were still asleep and safe.

He stopped in a bush and watched as his mother approached a fairy in a stone chair. The fairy was dark, mysterious and beautiful, but not as beautiful as his mother, he thought. There were seven men, all of them with blood soaked hands except for one that held onto the woman. He also noticed a huge black dog.

The woman faery and his mother appeared to be arguing about something but Scotland didn't really understand the topic properly. He heard them mention him a couple of times but other than that it was nonsense to him.

He was kneeling in the bush, trying to still his fast beating hear and silence his heavy breathing.

The dog's ears were twitching as if he was trying to scope out any intruders listening in. The dog stood stealthy, growling lowly at one of the bloodied handed fae who instantly began to follow the fairy dog.

They looked like they were searching for something or someone.

Scotland's heart quicken as they came closer.

He leaned back in the bush, trying to be less noticeable, as they came closer and closer.

His sensitive noise was beginning to smell the blood on the hands, the stink of the dog's breath and the decay of death.

These were bad fairies, unlike the ones the boys knew, and he had to make sure he didn't get caught by them.

He kept his eye on the one with bloodied hands as he came very close. The blood scared him.

Unfortunately since he was focusing too much on the Ly Erg, he didn't notice the large black dog set its gold eyes on him.

He didn't see as the dog crept closer.

He didn't see the spark in it's yellow eyes as it relished the hunt.

When he finally noticed the dog, it was too late and the beast had pounced on him.

It dragged him from the coverage of the forest, revealing him in the open. The solder fae was pulling on his arm with inhuman strength.

He did the only thing he knew how in a situation like this, he struggled and fight like it would cost him his life if he stopped and it probably would.

He felt something moving in the ground beneath him and the Ly Erg was ripped away from him, giving him the opportunity to kick the dog away. Before he could think about his next move, he found himself in his mother's arms as she hugged him.

He hugged back desperately, his leg was in burning and excruciating pain and he was sure that there was a huge bit in it from the scary dog. It had been terrifying, suddenly being attacked like that and his arm and leg nearly being ripped off by the super strength that only fairies have.

He knew he was crying and he tried to force the tears to stop. It succeeded but he still had wet streaks down his cheeks. He wiped them away furiously and glared at the dog that was snarling in rage at him.

He growled back quietly.

The dog leaned back as if it was about to leapt at him. A cool commanding voice sounded, stopping the dog.

"Back down."

Scotland turned his head and saw the woman glaring at the dying soldier faery and the black dog, smirking victoriously at Britannia and smiling cruelly at Scotland.

Her dark beauty was more apparent now, but still nothing against Britannia's.

However he found himself memorised by her. It was amazing how she displayed so many different emotions at so many different people. He gulped, staring at her with unwavering bright emerald eyes.

Queen Maeve was impressed by the youth's bravery.

She could see the blood and torn flesh and ripped muscle, the leg might even be broken. A bite from a Black Angus is nothing to sneeze at. Most fully grown men would be rolling on the ground screaming in agony but here was a little boy who just wiped away the tears and growled _back _at the offending dog!

She had recognised him instantly.

Blood red hair and bright green eyes - it was her desired tribute.

Britannia was clutching the boy to her protectively, watching the surrounding fae with caution but she could see the sea of pure resentment under those light green eyes as she looked at Maeve and her underlings. The glowing silver sword glinted scarily, the end of it shining with red blood.

The boy was staring at her. He bravely looked at her without glancing away with wide eyes. She smiled at him and she saw him flinch. So he wasn't stupid and unable to see greater power or strength, he was just courageous.

"You must be Britannia's first 'pup'." She said it like it was a question but it was obvious that she already knew the answer.

He gave a small nod. Maeve smiled wider.

She had been wondering how to lure the boy away from his brothers and their mother's protection but here the boy has already wandered into her grasp willingly.

"You are Northern Britannia if I remember right. Your people are the Painted Ones, right?" T

he boy kept a blank face but she saw confusion in his eyes. Had the boy been kept away from his people? Had all the children been kept away from normal humans? It would explain his animal like behaviour when he growled back at the fairy dog.

"Maeve." Britannia's stern voice drew her away from her prize.

"Queen Maeve. Remember that."

Britannia's glaring was unnerving. The black haired woman knew that if Britannia was allowed, she would gladly kill her. That sword she held was one designed for killing fae and one powerful strike could be fatal to her. As if to prove her point, the Ly Erg that attacked Scotland gurgled messily as he drowned in his own blood, leaving behind a body and a pool of red. She could not show any fear to her though.

"It seems my tribute has unknowingly followed you and walked into my hands."

Britannia lifted the child up and gripped him to his chest. His leg dangled uselessly but the queen could feel energy buzzing through it. The blood dripping from it appeared to be slowing. Was he using magic to heal it somehow? He was still staring at her with large eyes, framed by short red eye lashes.

"Do you have another name Northern Britannia?" He glanced up at his mother before looking back at Maeve.

"Can you speak, boy?" He nodded again.

"Aye."

"Tell me your name then. You must have a second one other than Northern Britannia." Britannia angled her body away suddenly so the boy was hidden and the sword was in full view. Maeve scowled. "That boy is mine. I require a tribute and I want him."

"I refuse. Take anything else but not him."

"If you can provide something or someone better I will leave him alone."

Britannia looked down at Scotland who was hanging onto her. She could feel the magic moving under his skin, healing his leg. The panic, fear and pain had sped up the healing process a little but not much. Britannia had weaken the seal a little though so his magical powers could flow more freely, healing his injury with inhuman speed. He would be able to walk and run properly again very soon but not soon enough to Britannia.

She paused before looking at her son who was only 10 years old and lived in such a small world of only 5 other humans. She couldn't give up his freedom before he had time to explore life.

"How about me?"

"Hmm?"

"I will give myself as tribute. I am of greater value than my son. His magic is sealed and limited while my magic is free-flowing and strong." Maeve looked tempted. The dark woman bit her lower lip before speaking.

"I acc~"

"Nee!" Everyone turned to the boy. Maeve's anger flared.

"Do not interrupt me, boy! I am a Queen among the fae!" Scotland recoiled like he was slapped but he still looked defiant afterwards.

"Nee. I dinnae want me màthair tae gah!"

"She is a fairy queen and she requires a tribute. I'm not disappearing." Britannia tried to explain softly but Scotland refused to be consoled or accept it.

"Nee! I thought Queen Gyre Carlin was the queen! She's nee Queen Gyre Carlin!" Britannia blinked suddenly remembering the other faery queen. She smiled slightly.

"Ah, I cannot give myself as a tribute. I have an outstanding vow to the Seelie court." She smirked, tilting the sword slightly so it reflected the moon's rays. "And my 'pups' are under protection of the Seelie court too. They are not bound to it like I am and you could take one but you will call the wrath of Gyre Carlin. Is your court strong or united enough yet to withstand her rage?"

Maeve frowned slightly. She was a new queen and her court was still just forming. Going to war would probably destroy it and any chance of her being a queen.

"What will you give then? Since you and your sons are 'off-limits'…" Maeve sounded sulky for a Queen but still retained her noble impression. Britannia thought about all of her possessions.

"Silver art work from the Highlands."

"From the 'Painted Ones' in the Pictic North, huh? Interesting people? They belong to your oldest son and yet he does not know of them." She pointed out, staring at Scotland. His leg seemed healed now and he looked sleepy. (Remember - Scotland heals very quickly but usually sleeps for a long time afterwards. It's in Story 1)

"He does not need to. Do you accept the tribute?" Maeve flicked her hand dismissively to the side, like she was bored of the conversation.

"Yes. I accept the tribute." She spoke mainly to herself. "The Picts are an artistic race with beautiful stone and silver art work apparently. I hear that many Pixies are actually related to them, hence the name 'Pixie' which derives from the name 'Pict' or 'Priteni' as they named themselves..." Maeve looked thoughtful as she spoke her thoughts aloud.

"Pixies have amazing craftsmanship…. Maybe that's where they got it from… The Picts even speak the ancient language of the fae and have many druids amongst them to act as advisors.…" The dark queen suddenly seemed interested in the promised tribute of silver from the mysterious people with so-called relations with Pixies.

"Bring it here under the next new moon. Make sure that there is a crown too for my coronation." Britannia nodded.

"Yes, Queen Maeve." Maeve smiled spitefully.

"I like when you are forced to be humble…. It suits you Britannia…" Britannia glowered at the pale woman with coal like eyes that didn't shine.

She didn't reply or talk back much to Maeve's distaste (the queen thrives on chaos), instead she simply turned and walked away, stepping over the Ly Erg's body. Her sword vanished when she was out of sight and she held her son securely with both hands.

He fell asleep on the walk back with his leg completely healed.

She had some Pictic silver brooches but not enough to give to Maeve. She would need to visit the northerly tribes to acquire more plus a crown. She was genuinely surprised when she heard Maeve speak about the links that the Picts have with the Pixies and the unknown language that they spoke which apparently hailed from the fae.

She looked at her son. He looked paler than normal and exhausted, he would probably sleep for most of the day tomorrow. She would have to make sure that his brothers do not disturb him.

She re-entered and felt relieve when she saw the other four brothers as they were when she left, still asleep.

She laid Scotland down in the middle and almost instantly they all clung onto him again.

His clothes were dirty and more tattered now from being dragged, and one leg of his trousers was completely ruined and covered in blood. She would have to explain that when the sun raised and they woke up. Her sons, like many young children, were early risers.

She lied down on the grey wolf pelt and soon fell asleep herself.

**(A/N - That's all folks. It's the end of this tale. Thıs was just a brief story about the brother's childhood before they started fıghtıng and trying to kill each other.**

**Maeve - A dark faerie queen in some myths so I thought she suited this role.**

**Ly Erg - A Scottish fairy dress in soldier uniform wıth blood on their hands from the people they have killed. They have an unusally high blood lust so are usuallyin the Unseelie court.**

**Black Angus - A huge savage black dog wıth yellow eyes that comes from Scotland. He ıs usually the bringer of death. He is very unlucky and considered a horrible omen to see.**

**Gancanagh - A ınhumanly beautiful faıry that drives humans crazy with lust and need that they die. An Irish fae.**

**I wrote this ages ago and finished it about a fortnight ago. I'm posting it now though as I can't write my fanfıc while ın Turkey and I didn't want to leave you guys waitıng for weeks for an update. I wıll be home and hopefully continuıng writıng the story ın two weeks so expect an update ın maybe just under 3 weeks.**

**This entire story was spoken in a mixture of Gaelic and Welsh, not in English.**

**Revıew please!)**


	59. Story 12 Chapter 1 One shot

**Jealous?**

England was annoyed.

Okay this was not a new thing.

He was annoyed with France.

This was still not anything new.

He was looking for France.

That was a little unusual though.

It was uncommon that England willingly for the Frenchman but his boss demanded that he asked France a question or two to do with recent tourism between the two countries. For a change though, he wasn't in his main house in central Paris. The green eyed man was a little happy not to be forced to stand awkwardly in the over-sized grandiose house in the heart and capital of his rival.

However he was mainly annoyed that he had to stay in France longer because now it meant that now he had to go to another part of France. Luckily he had been told where to go and it was north, nearer his own nation, in a very remote area.

It surprised England a little as France loved being in his capital (constantly reminding everyone that it was the 'city of lights' or 'love' or something beginning with L – England tries not to remember) and wasn't someone who liked nature or the country side. He complained that it was muddy, smelly and too far away from civilisation. Unlike Scotland who didn't mind solitude, France needed people around him.

He approached the cottage cautiously and raised his knuckle to knock on the door. He suddenly stopped himself. He should not be acting so shy. It was France's fault he was here and France never gave any warning to when he was going to appear or knocked on the door. Why should England extend the same courtesy?

Even though he knew it went against being a gentleman (Which he was no matter what other people say. Especially France or his brothers!) he barged into the French man's home.

He stomped into the living room which had turned off almost immediately from the front door.

He opened his mouth to yell at France (it's his default mood when talking with France) when he was rudely shushed. Yes he knows that he was the one who started it by rudely barging in but he still didn't like being rudely shushed. He opened his mouth again to rudely tell France off but was rudely shushed again. All this rudeness was not fit for a gentleman.

He stopped though when he saw France.

He had his finger to his mouth in the universal hand gesture for silence. He had a mixture between a small smile and a frown on his face. His long wavy blonde hair was pulled back in a low pony tail with a loose red ribbon. He was wearing casual clothes – a light pink shirt (and somehow retaining his masculinity) with an open collar that only came down to just past his elbows, black trousers and shoes and a single red rose tucked into the shirt's pocket.

England secretly admired France's fashion sense, though he would never admit it out loud, and he recognised all the clothes as top designer name brands.

He sat elegantly and confidently on the sofa with his knees together neatly.

A typical France.

What wasn't typical and had made England stopped was his oldest brother lying across the settee with his head resting on the French man's lap.

"Scotl~?"

"Shhhh!" France shushed him again.

That was really getting annoying.

England shot a glare at France and almost told him off until France whispered something urgently. "Be quiet s'il te plait. L'Ecosse iz zleeping."

England glanced at Scotland, who indeed had his eyes closed and was breathing slowly and deeply. The blonde scowled at his brother who probably wasn't even aware that he was there. France was absently running his free hand through the red hair and for some reason England felt angry. England lowered voice to match France's.

"Why is _he_ here?" It sounded like he had hissed the question. France tilted his head to the side with a frown.

"L'Ecosse iz tired so 'e fell azleep." England looked disbelieving.

"He can sleep at his own house." He spat out in a hushed voice. France was staring down at Scotland, twirling a particularly long spike of crimson by his ear around his long delicate finger. He either didn't hear England or was choosing to ignore him. England's anger spiked unreasonably. He usually felt angered by France when they argued but this was different. He ended up lashing out. England crossed his arms and glared at France.

"Did you drug him or something? Planning to rape my brother in his sleep? You stupid perverted Frog-face! All you ever do is think about sex! Is raping Scotland just another thing on your 'who-to-do list'?" It was said quietly and quickly but it felt like he was shouting. France's head snapped up and this time it was his turn for his anger to spike.

"Angleterre! I may not be ze mozt chaste but I know when to~!" France snapped raising his voice loudly, almost waking the sleeping man.

"Nrgh…" Scotland made a soft noise in his sleep, making the two blondes freeze. They stared at him while his body shifted slightly.

Once he had repositioned himself and his chest was moving evenly in his sleep again, France sucked in a big breath. He had unknowingly stopped breathing when it looked like Scotland might wake up. He looked up at England again who was still cautiously watching the red head.

England had no idea why he was so worried about his brother waking up. France spoke in a quiet, calm voice but he was still clearly angry with the Englishman.

"Arthur."

England jolted a little. He hated it when France called him that… It was way too personal…

"L'Ecosse and I may 'ave been ze lovers in our past." England cringed slightly at the thought. "But we are l'amis, non, we are meilleur amis first." France was stroking Scotland's hair again, trying to gently untangle the crimson bird's nest.

France thought that Scotland had good hair (Very fine hair but there is a lot of it, making it appear thick) but since he didn't really look after it properly, it was usually messy and spiky. France was always pleading him to at least condition it so it stopped looking so coarse.

France loved his own hair and looked after it carefully and lovingly, completely the opposite to Scotland.

"If 'e needs un ami, then I will be one. Of course if 'e ever needs a lovers~ honhonhonhon." He gave a small chuckle before talking sternly again. "Do not think so lowly of moi that I would completely ignore 'is feelings and place mine first." He finished his whispered rant with a posh little sniff like the very idea offended him.

England was genuinely a little surprised. France was seemingly a good friend towards Scotland at times. Though when England thought back he can remember times when France would try and molest Scotland no matter what. Maybe it depended on how troubled Scotland is.

"Why is he here?" He asked again but in a softer voice.

"I told tu. L'Ecosse iz tired."

"Make him sleep at his own home." England muttered again grumpily.

"He can't. There iz construction near 'is 'ouse." He could remember the red head just suddenly appearing early in the morning.

_He was woken up by his door bell. "Je suis venue! Je suis venue!" The blonde called as he sleepily walked to the door._

"_Il ya mieux être une bonne raison pour perturber mon sommeil de beauté ... Non pas que j'en ai besoin, bien sûr. Ohonhonhonhonhon~" _

_He opened the door, expecting to see one of his government officials but was surprised to see a familiar Scotsman instead._

"_Hey France." He sounded exhausted. _

"_L'Ecosse?" He was surprised that he was here so early, it was only 7 o'clock. He knew that Scotland was a very light sleeper though and usually woke up quite early (Between 6 and 9 in the morning.) but this still seemed very early even for him. _

"_Why are tu 'ere so early?" France paused before grinning deviously. "Iz this a surprised 'booty call'?" _

_Rather than the retort that the French man suspected there was only a very heavy sigh and a very quiet, rough voice. "Nee..." Scotland paused and glanced up before looking at France again. "Dee ye still haff tha' wee bothy up North?"_

_France paused and looked his friend over properly. His baggy clothes were slightly wrinkled and he had a slight bed head. His pale skin seemed taut and he had dark rings under his eyes. He looked like he had had a very bad night sleep or a series of bad nights of sleep._

"_Oui. L'Ecosse, when was the last time tu slept?"_

"_Umm… 'boot a week agah. Some heavy construction near meh hoose."_

"_Zo tu wish to zleep at my cottage?" _

"_Aye."_

"_Oui. Ici tu alles. 'ow did tu get 'ere?" _

"_Taxi, train, bus, euro star, taxi." He listed his modes of transport._

"_I'll drive tu there then."_

"_Cheers Francis." He sounded like he really meant it. _

_The blonde re-entered his house and returned 15 minutes later with proper clothes on (He was wearing silk PJs before) and a set of silver keys. The red head was leaning against the door with his back to France, looking out over the city of Paris. The day was just beginning and it was beautiful with the new morning sun highlighting certain buildings and the Eiffel Tower._

"_Hey dee ye stand it?" The Scotsman didn't even turn his head – he just knew France was back again with his keen senses, whether it by smell or sound or both. _

"_Hmmm?" _

"_Sleepin' in a city. It's so loud." He complained quietly. France walked up beside Scotland, who was squinting slightly. It looked like the light was hurting his eyes a bit. France just shrugged. _

"_Most normal humans 'ave no problem. Zis iz juzt a drawback of 'aving strong, zensitive senses." The red head sighed again._

"_How long?"_

"_A couple of heures."_

"_Let's gah then." France quickly locked the door and the two were soon on the way to France's cottage._

He sighed gently. Scotland had only just sat on the sofa beside France before he fell to sleep immediately, flopping to the side and lying across France.

England and his brothers all seemed to have to ability to almost instantly fall to sleep, though their sleeping habits were different. (Aka – Ireland is a very deep sleeper (He has to be with the fact he sounds like a rusty chain saw when he snores), North Ireland hugs things in his sleep and Wales curls into a ball and likes to sleep in but can't because he has to wake up early to look after his farm.)

However Scotland rarely trusted anyone enough to fall asleep in front of them so France felt honoured that the red head would so willingly go to sleep. England knew this as well.

When France mentioned construction, it all made sense. His brother had a hard time sleeping with back ground noise like cars, unfamiliar voices and alarms. It was great in the past when people tried to sneak up and kill him in his sleep but nowadays it was more of a hindrance.

"Why did he come here? He could have stayed at my house. It's closer…" England mumbled, watching as France traced patterns on his brother's cheek. He felt irritated as France's pale fingers danced across the paler skin of Scotland's face, outlining his jaw line, eyes and cheek bones.

Scotland's mouth was slightly parted as his face was relaxed in his slumber. France smiled slyly. He whispered so England had to strain to hear it.

"Are tu jealous?" England turned bright red and shouted.

"I am not jealous! I am concern for my brother's health! I just don't want him covered in frog germs!" He clapped his hands over his mouth as he realised what he did. His eyes bulged slightly as he eyed Scotland for any sign of waking up.

After a quick shush and glare, France stared at the sleeping form of his best friend below his hand. He had stopped playing with the scarlet spike and placed a hand over his ear when England started to shout, hoping that would keep him asleep. Scotland didn't move or make a sound so England assumed that he was still asleep.

"Sorry, I forgot." He whispered. France just shrugged.

"Beware ze green eye monster, Angleterre. Zit feedz on ze meat it mockz." France quoted Shakespeare's Othello. It irked England that the French man was using his English literature against England himself!

"I'm not jealous and my eyes are always green, Frog!" England hissed quietly.

France looked sceptical which bothered England more. Not as much as France's fingers which were running through Scotland's hair lazily again.

France smiled suddenly bent down and kissed Scotland on the cheek softly. England's mouth dropped open. Hadn't France said he was going to be considerate of Scotland and not take advantage of him! England felt his cheeks warm ever so slightly so he turned away.

Dammit! Now he felt really bad…

He might as well leave…

"I'll just be going then."

"Un moment Angleterre. Can tu get ton frère a blanket? L'Ecosse fell azleep on top of me az zoon az 'e came in." England nodded stiffly, still not looking at Scotland properly. France gave him directions to the closet with the spare blankets and soon England was back throwing a light blue quilt over his brother.

France smoothed out the fabric on the red head's shoulder, tucking him in a little. He gave him a fond little pat. England looked at the pat with a small frown before turning around towards the door.

"Bye Frog Face." "Au revoir, mon petite lapin." England was just leaving with a scowl and a stomp as he heard France's hushed voice follow after him mockingly. "Maybe if tu gained ton frère's trust, 'e might zleep at ton house too. Then there would be no need to zo jealous." England closed the door with a quiet click, regretting he couldn't just slam the door, and France chuckled.

As soon as England was long gone, he looked down at Scotland, fiddling with his hair again. "'ow long are tu going to feign zleep, mon ami?" He asked in a normal volume. Scotland sighed.

"When did ya figured it oot?"

"When Angleterre was making that racket, ton body tensed and ton breathing became irregular." Scotland gave a low, quiet laugh, still sounding very tired.

"Why did ye ask England tae git a blanket when ye could haff got it yerself afta I woke up?" France smirked.

"I jus' wanted tu to see that ton frère still loves tu." Scotland snorted.

"Gawd. I fergit how manipulative ye are, teasing me wee broth and pushing him aroond like that." France didn't miss that fact that Scotland avoided the subject of England still liking him.

"Ah but tu more than anyone should know how fun teasing him is."

"Hm. Aye. I guess I dee."

"Go to sleep, L'Ecosse."

"Aye."

"Do tu want another kiss good night?"

"Nee… It's mid…day…" Seconds later, Scotland was asleep again and France was just playing with his hair again and stroking his face absently. The blonde concentrated on listening to his breathing and heart beats and thinking about England's reactions.

**(A/N – A weird drabble because I have writer's block.**

**Translations! - **

**Je suis venue! Je suis venue - I'm coming. I'm coming.**

**Il ya mieux être une bonne raison pour perturber mon sommeil de beauté ... Non pas que j'en ai besoin, bien sûr. - There better be a good reason for disturbing my beauty sleep... Not that I need it, of course.**

**Ici tu alles. - Here you go**

**France and Scotland are actually two very different people. They are almost complete opposites. And the things they do have in common are negative things….**

**Also I'm having a bad time writing the earlier stories so I'm adding these two one-shots for now. When I have writer's block I tend to try and write something else until it's cleared. It works mostly. **

**Also, since Wab Wab has been so successful, I decided to write a series of stories based on France and Scotland. I haven't started it yet but I might in winter about Christmas or maybe sooner or maybe later. I've already decided on the name of the story (What a Friend! What a Frog! – Sticking to the same pattern as What a Brother! What a Bother! Smart Huh?) and I have three plot bunnies that I want to start writing soon but I would really love some suggestions! SUGGEST PLEASE!**

**I mainly decided to do this as France has been popping up more and more in the stories because he's Scotland's best friend and England's rival etc.**

**Review please!)**


	60. Story 13 Chapter 1 One shot

**It was going to be a good day.**

It was going to be a good day.

England just knew it. It was a rare sunny with no clouds or cold breeze sort of day. He had no meetings and only one stack of paper work to finish. He had the whole afternoon off too; for sewing, drinking tea, reading, gardening or whatever he fancied. Best of all, he hadn't seen any of his brothers for weeks.

It was going to be a good day.

4 voice mails on his phone… not unusual but not usual.

He pressed the button to hear them on speaker.

The first one was quiet with loud voices in the back ground and had to be played again to be heard. Mainly it was groaning and pleas to die quickly and instantly – poor sap had a bad hang over. He paused, trying to recognise the very familiar voice when he heard the voices in the back of the call. He played the recording a third time, listening to the back ground noise.

"Oi! Wales! Yer callin' Iggy? Tell him I say hi!" A cheerful Irish accent and now he recognised the speaker on the phone as Welsh. Oh, so Wales was calling him and North Ireland was with him.

"Shut it, ye ninny! Tell him 'Hi' when you git yer call! Damn drunk…" An angry Irish man as well. Strange Ireland was there…

Wales and Ireland didn't usually visit each other.

"Actually Ireland, we're all 'Damn drunks'. How the bloody fuck else did ye think we ended up in jail, eejit?" A Scottish accent too? So Scotland is there as well.

That would make it all of his brothers in jail …

WAIT!

**JAIL? **

"Alba! Dinnae be so harsh te Ireland."

Suddenly Wales voice yelled over the phone, "AH! My fuckin' heed!", followed by the sound of throwing up and the disconnection dial. England took a deep breath.

Today can still be a good day….

No! It was going to be a good day!

Fuck his brothers! He won't let them ruin it.

3 voice mails left!

"Hiya Iggy~!" North Ireland yelled happily over the phone. Was he still in jail? He was tempted to just delete the message than listen to the end.

"Wales hadda wee accident. He threw up!"

"Gawd! Just tell him we're in prison so we can leave!"

"Oh yeah. England can you dee meh a favour and bail me, Alba and Cymru oot of jail? Ye canne fergit Ireland. This is his fault."

"I heard that! Ye damn tattie fucker! Once ye are back in this cell, I'm gonnae~"

"Shhh! Iggy might hear you."Scotland hadn't spoken yet so England felt relieved as North Ireland and Ireland argued over the phone.

"Yer phoning England?"

"Aye."

"Dinnae call him! I rather spend tha night here!"

"But Wales called him…"

"Wales is a sheep shagg~ ARGH! Fuck Wales! Yer still conscious." It sounded like a bolt of lightning had hit Ireland.

"With yer yelling – yes….." He could hear North Ireland laughing and could almost visual this scene in his head. There was a loud crack all of a sudden over the phone.

"I'm leeving fer coffee. I'll be back… maybe."

"Oi! Dinnae relock the bloody door! Git back here!"

"Oh! Got to go! Alba just broke out of jail but he left us behind and now the police look angry! Bye~"

"Wait! Ye fergot to tell him where we a~" The sentence got cut off.

England felt himself nearly hyper-ventilating.

This was going to be a good day.

This was going to be a good day.

This was going to be a good day.

2 voice mails left.

"It's my bloody fucking turn! So sod off Paddy!" Ireland apparently.

"Listen you English bastard! I don't like you but since my phone was confiscated, I don't know any other numbers!" Charming. Not exactly the best way to convince someone to come pick you up.

"Me, North Ireland and Wales are in jail! Scotland went fer coffee but apparently got stopped on tha way oot." Obviously. The police aren't just going to let a man break out of his cell and waltz out the door. "He's been confined to a separate cell or sumthing. So Hurry Up Ye Bassa!"

"Hey Iggy! Look Wales is asleep!"

"He cannae see through the damn phone ye dumb bastard! And he's unconscious with a bloody hangover. No asleep!"

"Can I speek to Iggy agen?"

"Nee, ye had yer turn! One call per person!"

"Nae fair! I dinnae git a gud talk with him!"

"Weel, I dinna~ ACK!" England flinched as he heard the phone being dropped. He heard police men shouting over the phone.

"Report! Report! One of the prisoners is trying to strangle another prisoner through the bars! We need assistance!"

"Hug attack!"

"ACK! Argh! Help!"

"Gimme tha phone!"

"NEE!"

"TASER HIM!"

"WHICH ONE?"

"BOTH OF THEM! JUST TASER THE SON OF A BITCHES!"

"Bzzzt~! Bzzzt~!"

"FU~!"

The line went dead. England silently noted to himself that still no one had bothered to say where the jail was or even the country that it was in.

Today was going to be a good day.

That's right England. If you keep saying that, maybe someone somewhere will believe you. Maybe Italy?

The last voice mail.

He guessed the last voice mail would be Scotland but was surprised to hear a certain frog's laugh.

"Ohonhonhonhonhon~ Mon petit lapin!" England reached for the delete button. "I jus' 'ad an interesting talk with ton frère." God dammit… Now he had to listen…

"L'Ecosse et moi were 'aving such a nice converzation. Apparently there was a petit incident and mon ami 'as ended up in jail. 'e asked me to pick 'im up but I'm très buzy zo I zaid I would ask tu." England sighed. "'e zaid zat was fine and zat tu can take ton time. 'e iz apparently 'aving un bien time in 'is cell."

Now that sounded the complete opposite of the others and what he heard over the phone.

"Zey are in the Dublin police station on Upper Kevin street by za way. Au revoir ma cherie." England glared at the phone. He didn't know a lot of French but he knew enough to recognise that France used the female version of 'dear'.

Today was going to be a good day.

Today was goin~ Fuck it.

No, today was _NOT_ going to be a good day.

Today was going to be the same as usual – one long stream of bad luck…

**OMAKE – **

He didn't know why he was doing this. After all, their annoying stream of useless and violent voice mails had ruined his good day.

He stood outside the cell with his arms, looking in at three of his four brothers.

Ireland and North Ireland will hand cuffed to opposite sides of the cell, scowling at each other. They looked bruised, angry, hung over and slightly crispy. Wales was curled up in the corner, asleep or unconscious.

North Ireland noticed him first and beamed. "Hey Iggy!"

"Ye Bassa! Whit the hell took ye so bloody long?"

"Uhhh… My head…." The two Irish men glanced nervously at him. They lowered their voices now.

"Did ye pay the bail, at least?"

"Yes but I don't know why. You guys are wankers."

"Cheers Iggy! How much?"

England stared at North Ireland who suddenly twitched. He paused a moment and the auburn jerked again. He turned to Ireland who convulsed as well. It looked like a side effect of being tasered.

"How much?"

"Oh! Uh… 75 euro each…. I expect back every single cent." (They use Euro not pounds in Ireland)

"Aye."

"… Aye ye bassa…"

"Urg…."

"I'll take that as a yes, Wales…."

"Nrg…"

"The police officer will be here in 15 minutes to undo the handcuffs. Apparently he is busy with another prisoner. Now, do you know where Scotland is?"

"How the hell should we know? We have been stuck here fer hours!" England rolled his eyes.

He walked back to the reception. Just before he reached reception though, he heard laughter.

He glanced in the door and saw a dark room with multiple TV screens. Two men were watching one screen in particular and laughing. One was a tall man with light brown hair and a police uniform, the other was handcuffed with hair the colour of ripe strawberries. They were both holding a handful of playing cards.

"Two two of a kind."

"Full hoose."

"Dammit… Ye ken I could play betta if I didnae hafta wear handcuffs…"

"Sorry mate. That's tha rules. All prisoners have tah wear handcuffs oot of tha cell."

"Fair enuff."

"And ye did break oot of yer cell earlier…."

"Sorry aboot that. I was hung ova and meh brothers were driving me crazy."

"I ken. Had tah taser two of them last night."

"I heard."

"How did ye break oot of yer cell?"

"Jus' lucky I guess."

"Iain?" The two turned around in surprise.

"Oh Hey. Took long enuff. Bloody thought I was gonnae die from auld age." The officer stood quickly.

"Sir. I presume yer Arthur Kirkland."

"Yes."

"Bail's been paid. I'll release yer brothers now." The officer turned to Scotland. "Sorry Iain but ye hafta go back to yer cell for a few minutes while I get tha others."

"Nae problem."

"What were you two doing in here?" England asked curiously.

"Wotching the CTV from last night." England watched the buzzing, dull coloured screen.

He recognised Ireland shaking his fist at North Ireland who seemed to be standing on a table, jumping like he was trying to break it or some weird dance. Wales was crying in the back ground, complaining about something.

"Where are you in this Scotland."

"Ootside smoking."

Suddenly the bar erupted into a fight as North Ireland rugby tackled a random drunk. The whole pub was in a huge fight. Men in black uniforms suddenly surged in, suppressing the crowd. Out of the corner of the screen, you could see two auburns trying to rip each other apart, a screaming topless Welsh man and ten people tackling a red head who just walked in.

England stared at it wide eyed while the other two laughed again.

"Bloody hell…"

"Dee ye think we could git a copy of tha tape?"

"Nee. Security laws and stuff."

"Aye." Scotland stood. "Back tah me cell?"

"Yep."

Scotland was guided back to his cell. He sat in it comfortably as his cuffs were removed. He rubbed his wrists a bit before picking up a magazine in the corner of the cell and opening it. England raised an eyebrow when he saw the two remaining paper cups from Starbucks and an empty packet of cigarettes. How the hell did Scotland smuggle these in?

He looked around and suddenly realised he had been locked in the cell with his brother. He heard voices down the hallway grow louder. The door opened again and the officer was there with two twitching auburn men and a semi-conscious blondish brown.

"Alba…" Ireland sounded pissed. "I cannae believe ye left us in tha cell!"

"Yer twitching." Scotland stated absently, ignoring Ireland's previous statement.

"I ken that!" He snapped. "And Paddy! If ye do not stop hugging meh, I'm gonnae rip off yer arms and~"

"Yer gonnae git tasered agen, Seamus." The Scotsman reminded him.

Ireland muttered something violent under his breath as Scotland squeezed past and out of the cell.

The brothers were escorted out by the officer. Scotland and the man exchanged a handshake just as the five were leaving. "Fancy a drink some time?"

"With tha way ye punched meh afta getting drunk!"

"Actually I meant coffee."

"Och, aye. I dinnae mind then." They shared a laugh.

"ALBA! Git yer ass ova here!"

"Shut it Duffy!"

"I TOLD YE NAE TAH CALL ME THAT!"

"Calm down Seamus! The taxi is here."

"Thank you Iggy!"

"Mmm… ugh…"

"God… There goes my good day…."

**(A/N – I wrote the first bit while hyper as a joke but then my friend liked it and asked me to post it…**

**So Taadaa!**

**It's not good or anything, just a random drabble, I did in boredom and hyperness.**

**Scotland was friends with an officer so he broke out of his cell to ask if he could get a different cell and coffee ect. I know it's OOC and unrealistic but I did write this without any intent to actually put it online. It was just something to make me giggle and help me over my writer's block. **

**Don't blame me.)**


	61. Story 14 Chapter 1

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Prologue**

Once upon a time in a faraway land lived a beautiful cross-dresser. Now this cross dresser had a problem. He was locked in a tower. It was 100m high and generally in the middle of nowhere. His name was Engl~ I mean Arthur.

His name was Arthur…. Prince Arthur Kirkland.

The crossing dressing prince(ss) who lived in a very high tower in the middle of a dark forest was locked in there by a great red scaled Scottish dragon. He had been there since his childhood. The prince was obviously very lonely and vey annoyed to be in the tower but he had no choice.

Mostly people mistook him for a girl because of his cross dressing and soon rumours and tales of a beautiful princess in a tower had spread throughout the land. Many men tried to rescue the maiden, only to find an angry man in a dress and/or to be killed by the dragon.

So the beautiful 'maiden' in the tower guarded by a monster legend became famous….

This is when our story begins…

**(A/N – I have been writing this for week and weeks, hence the reason my other stories have been updated so slowly.**

**Sorry about that by the way. **

**I still haven't finished this story but it's getting close to the end. I'm deciding to post it now though. It was originally meant to be a one shot for a small contest winner in my 'Letters to a Scotsman.' She wrote the 100****th**** letter and I said she could request a story that I would write straight away. **

**Unfortunately I loved her idea so much that it grew and grew and grew…. It's about 17,000 words and at this rate it might end up with 25,000…. It is simply too big to be a one shot any more so I have decided to split it up into chapters and post it like a normal story. Sometimes I can write a one shot, sometimes I can't.**

**Sorry RiibbonKandii – Your one-shot is now a small novel. I hope it lives up to your expectations. And if it doesn't…. Sorry again. **

**PS – This is an AU or an 'Alternate Universe' **

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**REVIEW PLEASE!) **


	62. Story 14 Chapter 2

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter one**

One day, some men heard of a mighty red beast entrapping a poor princess within its grasp.

An American knight, a French noble man and a Russian trader….

Each wanted something different from the tower. They all searched for the tower and eventually found it and its occupants.

The American knight was the first one to reach the tower.

He approached the tower confidently in a gleaming steel chain mail and amour with a beautiful sword and a glistening red, blue and white shield. He had soft blonde hair that was like the sun and deep sapphire eyes that reflected the ocean perfectly. He was tanned from spending a lot of time outside training and his body showed the evidence. He also had an arrogant and proud aura that told people he was confident in himself.

He called up to the only small window in the tower.

"Hey! Princess! My name is Sir Alfred! I'm here to rescue you and be a hero. Can you let down your long golden hair so I may climb it?"

You can imagine the blonde's surprise where instead of a cute princess sticking her dainty little head out of the small window; it was a man with thick eyebrows and a scowl. He was pale with wheatish hair, bright green eyes and a pale green dress that matched them. He also decidedly looking pissed off. He was still beautiful though.

"What did you call me?"

"Dude! It's a dude! In a dress?"

"Hmpft!" The prince huffed angrily.

"I thought you were a beautiful princess!"

"Sorry to disappoint! Just go away you wanker! Before you get killed you idiot!" The blonde prince soon disappeared back inside the tower.

"No! Wait! I'm sorry! I was just surprised!" The prince re-appeared shyly.

"Really?..."

"Yeah! So… What's your name then?"

"Prince Arthur…"

"I'm Sir Alfred F Jones! And I'm going to save you from this tower! So pass down a rope or something!"

"If I had a rope, do you think I would still be in here!"

"Oh… Good point… I'll just climb it then." Sir Alfred slowly began scaling the tower. He noticed it was fairly ancient and there was moss in the cracks. He used the gaps between the stones to climb up it easily. Whilst climbing, he continued talking.

"Can I call you Artie?"

"Bloody hell! No way!" His reply was largely ignored.

"So Artie, why are you here anyway?" Arthur was watching the blond worriedly while scowling at the nickname.

"My stupid brother thought it would be funny to lock me in a tower full of women's clothing…" He muttered loudly so Alfred could hear but it was obvious how embarrassed he was.

"Your brother?"

"Yes. My older brother, Iain. Though I don't think we are completely related." The knight was now half way up.

"Huh? Really? Why?"

"Oi! Ye. Whit dee ye think yer deeing on meh tower?" He looked up past the blonde to see a pale, tall red head, standing on the roof in plain peasant clothing. He was glaring down at the blond.

"Uh…"

"Oi! You git! When are you going to let me out of this tower?"

He smirked slightly. "Dinnae ken. We'll see." He turned back to Alfred. "So whit dee ye think yer deeing?" He demanded again.

"Are you his brother? You locked him in here? The rumours said it was a dragon that did it."

"Aye. I'm tha dragon." The American looked puzzled.

"Where's your scales and wings and tail and… stuff…"

"Stuff huh?... I guess I can show ye… I haffnae eaten any gud tasting knights recently…" He licked his lips slightly.

Arthur started shouting for Alfred to get away and run but the blonde was too distracted from the sight before him.

The bright red hair seemed to spread, smoothing over and hardening into gleaming, red scales. His body grew and changed shape, ripping the fabric of his clothes so it fell away uselessly around him. Fangs and black claws grew and he glared down at the man with the same bright emerald eyes as his human form. He had two black horns twisting from his head. He had a silver necklace around his red neck.

He was enormous; slightly bigger than an elephant. His thick claws dug into the tile roof, dislodging some of the looser tiles. The brown, mossy tiles rained down and Alfred clung closer to the tower.

The dragon moved forward slightly. Something twitched on his back and the knight soon realised it was a pair of large scaly wings. They stretched out before folding into his back again. A tail whipped around for balance as the dragon climbed down the tower quickly.

His claws made it easy to grip into the stones on the tower as they easily dug into the stone. The blonde knight was frozen, staring in amazement at the magnificent creature. Suddenly he felt water splash down onto his head. He looked up confused at the prince in the light green dress who was holding an empty bucket.

"Run you wanker!" The knight gaped slightly before a tremor from the dragon's movements through the tower, forced him to lose his grip. He hit the grassy ground with surprising softness for the high height.

The dragon jumped down, landing on the ground beside him with ease. The red beast snarled at him and took a step forward, circling him a little. He snapped his jaws at the knight as the blonde drew his sword. He pointed it at the dragon who smirked in return.

The creature lunged forward, easily knocking aside the sword which bounced uselessly off of the red scales. A burst of scarlet fire forced the knight back. The American was refusing to retreat but at this rate he might end up dead. He had no idea it was so hard to fight a dragon.

The giant lizard was fast, amazing strong (even compared to him who was the strongest in his class at knight school), agile and his skin was too hard to pierce with a sword. His shield was the only thing keeping him alive but it was quickly disappearing from the bursts of fire and swipes of his claws. He heard a shout and glanced up.

"Run you stupid knight! He's going to kill you! RUN!"

"B-But what about you dude?"

"I can look after myself! Just run!"

"Ah… Okay! But I will be back to save you! I will be your hero!" The blonde charged into the edge of the woods, quickly escaping the dragon that didn't bother leaving the edge of the tower.

The dragon snorted slightly, flicking his tail annoyed. He unfolded his wings and took off into the air, flying up the high tower. He landed on the roof, curling his tail around the central spiral for support. He threw back his head and let out a deafening roar, signalling his victory.

**RAWR!~**

**(A/N – Basically whatever I said in the last A/N.**

**The last bit is meant to be in bold.**

**I wish I was better at fight scenes and things that are epic when you imagine then but silly when you write them down. Just imagine the battle etc. It's much better in your head than out loud.**

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	63. Story 14 Chapter 3

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter two**

Someone had been watching the fight with interest. He had arrived and was shocked when he saw a red dragon fighting a knight but he smiled happily.

The rumours were true.

A red dragon really did exist.

It had taken him a long time to find this tower as it was far away from everything and most who had came where killed so information was scarce. Many thought this place and the dragon were mere myths.

Now the Russian only had to capture the elusive creature….

**(A/N – I know this is a very short chapter but when I wrote the one shot to divide up the story with lots of "~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~." to make the story easier to read/ understand. I would re-edit it but I'm too lazy and it would take a lot of work and a lot more time. I doubt many of you want to wait any longer….**

_**SPECIAL BULLETIN – I have a poll so you can vote for what has been your favourite story so far! It's on my profile so it should be easy to find. The votes might affect future stories!**_

**Yes, I am going to keep saying that until you vote. :)**

**I think this is the first time that my chapter has been longer than my A/N.**

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	64. Story 14 Chapter 4

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter three**

Alfred was sulking in the bar in the village. It was a few dozen miles away from the tower but it was still the closest thing to it. He was drinking a scotch moodily when a tall man took the seat beside him. The man ordered vodka in a strange accent.

The American glanced at the new comer. He cocked his head slightly when he realised the man was staring intently at him with a wide smile.

He was strangely tall, had platinum blonde hair and mystifying purple eyes. His face was round, childlike and rather endearing so it was hard to judge his age. A light pink scarf donned his rather odd, foreign clothing that obviously belonged to a middle class man. Though it appeared he was not in poverty and was pretty well off, he still had to work for a living.

He seemed innocent but something about him was off like he was hiding something dark….

"Hello comrade."

"Hey."

"I saw you fighting that dragon, da."

"Oh. Really…"

"You lost pretty badly."

"I guess I did…."

"Don't you know anything about dragons?"

"Uh… No…" The beige haired man tsked, shaking his head.

"Let's make a deal, comrade. I am a trader. I will teach you about dragons so you can save your prince and in return you will give me dragon, da?"

The knight paused, examining the man carefully for any tricks or deceptions. He had never been very perspective though so ended up agreeing anyway.

"Sure." The tight smile widened.

"Excellent comrade! I will teach you much." The Russian drank the vodka shot before ordering more.

"First is appearance. Dragons are very rare, solitary creatures. There are apparently just over 1000 left in the entire world. They can appear like humans do but there are some differences from us. Their canines will be larger and their ears will be slightly pointed. Their irises are silted. They are stronger than humans but much weaker than their dragon forms. Their skin is also fire-proof, regardless of form."

"Hmmm?…"

"A dragon's diet is mostly meat – cooked or raw. They usually hunt large mammals like cows, sheep and pigs and even predators like wolves, mountain lions and bears. They are troublesome to farmers this way. Most poisons don't affect them and only specially prepared magical poisons will work on them too so tainting his food will be pointless."

America sipped a little more on his drink, listening curiously. He wasn't thinking of using poison. He hated under-handed methods like that. He was a very straight forward, head first kind of guy. He was usually criticized by his training instructor for not thinking things through first.

"Most dragons can only grow to about the size of an elephant too. A couple can be smaller or bigger. Their tails are used for balance and like whips and clubs so avoid them. They can fly using their wings. Their skin, claws and teeth is harder than steel and their speed and strength is nearly unmatched."

"So wait! How am I meant to beat him then?"

"Ahh. Be patient comrade. I will get to that now. Dragons are naturally magical beings. They can breathe fire and some can cast spells if they learn them. They do have a weakness to certain types of spells and enchantments though. They can be used to soften their impenetrable skin, stop their fire breath, force them into human form or lull them to sleep…. Sometimes music can also send them to sleep but it's not very reliable."

"Spells? I don't know any magic. Do you have those enchantment thingies at least?"

"Da. Do not worry comrade. They also have physical weaknesses. They have very powerful hearing, sight and sense of smell so sneaking up on them is near impossible. However, strong smells like ammonia though can throw them off and make them dizzy. Bright flashes of light will temporarily blind or dazzle them and sudden loud noises can stun them. Their under belly is also a weak spot. The scales are thinner and weaker there so aim for that."

"Is that it?"

"Da."

"So their weaknesses are magical enchantments and spells, music, strong smells, loud sounds, bright flashes and their softer underbelly. But they are super strong and fast with impenetrable skin and the ability to fly and breathe fire."

"Da."

"So not too hard…" The American knight muttered sarcastically.

"Let's drink for now and tomorrow we will return to the tower to rescue your prince." Alfred nodded slightly. He was already a bit tipsy to be honest because of drinking continuously throughout the lesson. He had taken in the information but now the world was getting a little fuzzy and bright.

The Russian smiled slightly as he drank his vodka.

"Will ya be fo-fighting too? How do ya know so much?"

"Nyet. I am not a fighter. I am merely a trader. I just picked up little facts." It seemed that the man knew a little too much for a simple trader. It almost seem like he was specialised in this or something.

"Really?"

"Da but I will supply you with everything you need. Just remember not to kill the dragon."

"Why do ya wan' it anyway? It's 'ust a big lizard." He slurred slightly, the alcohol suddenly and quickly taking hold of his language skills. He felt buzzed and slightly fuzzy but not drunk yet.

Tipsy.

The Russian grinned and hummed slightly before answering.

"Another interesting fact about dragons is the fact that their hair colour as a human is always their scale colour as a dragon…. Nearly every single dragon has blonde or brown scales. Ones from the East tend to have black scales too. Their eye colour remains the same in both forms too…."

"Seriously?"

"Da. It is a very rare and nearly unknown phenomenon for any other colour to exist…" The Russian paused to drink.

"Ahh… So why da ya want the giant lizord?" The American asked again, not connecting the dots in his tipsy daze.

"It doesn't matter… I just want it alive… Remember comrade, we will meet here to go rescue the prince in the morning."

"Yeah… okay... So what's ya name a-again?"

"Ivan."

"Alfred."

**(A/N – This chapter was a bit boring. Mainly just information about this world and its dragons.**

**It will get more interesting later on.**

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	65. Story 14 Chapter 5

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter four**

Meanwhile, Prince Arthur was upset. He was currently curled up in his king size bed. He hated being here. He wished he could leave but his brother would always stop him. He didn't know why the red head did that either….

He never gave a reason….

The blond was trapped in desolation…

Wearing a dress…

He couldn't help but wonder and hope that maybe the blonde knight, Alfred would return…

He whispered his name as he fell asleep…

**(A/N – Once again a really short chapter. I think I explain this before so I won't bore people by repeating it.**

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	66. Story 14 Chapter 6

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter five**

Meanwhile again, A French noble man had just arrived in the village following the rumour of a beautiful princess trapped in a tower by a hideous monster.

After happening to overhear a Russian and an American talk about the beast with the maiden in the tower, he decided to sneak away to the tower in the middle of the night. The tall one had mentioned music as a possible weakness so he hoped to use his lovely singing voice to lull the awful creature to sleep.

It would be easy.

Then he could woe the beautiful maiden to be his wife and lover.

Rumours of her beauty were legendary. She will be his wife, he decided.

He had ordered his servants to stay behind at his mansion so he could travel quicker to the village and eventually the tower too.

Because of this, it didn't take long for him to saddle up and ride into the forest to search for the mysterious tower.

**(A/N – I promise there will be longer chapter later! …. And maybe… a couple more…. short chapter….**

**Any way this is the appearance of France! He's a tad OOC in my mind a bit later on but this is an AU so some exceptions can be made as long as it's not too extreme.**

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	67. Story 14 Chapter 7

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter six**

Iain was lying on the roof in his human form with his hands behind his head, resting and staring at the stars. The moon was almost gone, making the night seem darker and inkier than normal. The sky was almost black to his vision but he could still see clearly.

He was just wearing simple, loose trousers and a long silver chain with a small Celtic knot on it.

Human clothes were a pain for him.

Every time he transformed into his true form his clothes were ruined. He always had to buy new clothes if he changed suddenly or quickly without striping first, which was common with his impatience. He still had a few sets of clothes left so he was in no hurry to buy new ones.

He wasn't wearing a shirt at the moment though because it was night and no one could see him. He didn't need any clothes to actually stay warm anyway. He never felt cold with his fiery dragon centre.

He always slept outside on the roof too for comfort. It felt more natural for him. He was basically an animal, even if he could appear as a human.

Iain wasn't sleepy at the moment though the blonde and most humans had fallen asleep a few hours ago. He didn't require more than a couple hours of sleep each day and preferred to sleep in the very early morning.

He had scowled when he heard the man whisper the earlier knight's name. He was now regretting letting the knight run off but he had smelt another human lurking in the woods. He didn't want to risk leaving the tower's side.

The dragon rarely actually left the tower except to hunt for food or fetch supplies for Arthur. He also felt lonely in the tower.

Though he would never tell Arthur this…

He fiddled with the basic Celtic knot between in his long fingers. It had three points and was only about the size of a coin. It was important to him though.

It had been a gift from his 'mother'. He missed her….

Just after midnight he heard distant hoofs hitting the ground. The rider seemed to be coming closer. He estimated that whoever it was would reach the tower in 20 minutes if they were trying to get here.

He sighed irritated.

He listened lazily to the horse. As it got closer, he could hear more and more.

The fluttering heart beat of the tired animal and the steady one of a human, their dual breathing which was out of sync with each other and the man's teeth which were clattering together as he shivered from the night's chill. The wind wasn't blowing in the right direction so it was difficult to smell him but there seemed to be a whiff of perfume in the air.

The person was probably rich….

He sat up and watched as the figure rode into the clearing. The man had a flaming torch to light his way as there was little moon light. The light was unnecessary for the dragon as he could see almost perfectly in the dark.

His species were partly nocturnal after all, preferring to sleep just before dawn. They were also the most inactive at midday so they could bathe lazily in the heat and the most active at twilight so they could hunt when it was darker and no one could stop or catch them.

He could see the man clearly. It was a man with shoulder length silky blonde hair, tied back with a red ribbon and bright blue eyes. A typically beautiful man, who would probably have women following him around, who was dressed in fine silk clothes and well groomed.

A nobleman…

He also had a bouquet of deep red and white roses in a large gaudy ribbon in his free hand. He wanted to be a suitor for the 'princess'.

The dragon smirked at the irony, leaping from the 500m tower and landing on his human hands and feet in the grass.

He went unnoticed by the nobleman…

For now…

**(A/N – Not much to say which I haven't already said.**

**Have you voted yet? No? Well then…**

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	68. Story 14 Chapter 8

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter seven**

The French nobleman paused at the bottom of the tower. It was higher than he thought it would be. There were deep red curtains on the window and it appeared dark. She was probably asleep….

There was no sign of a monster though.

Maybe it was just a myth made to scar people….

He cleared his throat, preparing his voice to shout up to the princess.

Suddenly something grabbed his shirt collar and pushed him into the wall of the tower. He gasped in shock, quickly dropping the flowers. Luckily he still had a hold on the torch, though the flame went out.

It was the hideous beast!

That was what passed through his head when he was attacked by the inhuman strength.

His eyes widened in shock as he was lifted high off the ground easily by the collar of his light blue jacket. He couldn't see anything in the blackness apart from the glow of the dying embers of his torch.

His back was to the stone tower and he could feel himself being scraped against it roughly as he dangled there.

The monster was below him now, staring up at him with deadly, toxic green eyes that glowed angrily in the dark. The French man gave out a loud gasp followed by a short, small scream and he soon realised that he was going to die.

If he was going to die… then he at least wanted to see the repulsive face of the ugly creature… that would end his lovely life…

He lifted up the torch in between him and the monster and gasped.

The beast was human!

A man!

Sacré bleu, he was hot!

He stared at the man.

He was almost naked, apart from simple baggy trousers.

Even in the faint glow of the fading torch, he could tell this man had beautiful milky white skin that was probably as flawless as his own pampered skin. The oranges and yellows reflected off of it, highlighting all his remarkable muscles on his torso and arms.

His hair was a deep bloody scarlet and looked coarse. His features were strong too. He had a defined nose and a strong jaw though his cheeks still had a slight mild child like softness to them that gave a sense of immaturity. His ears seemed unusually pointed which was weird. His lips were full and sensual.

His eyes too. That green which he had found so terrifying were strangely hypnotising in this light. They were like emeralds which shone brightly and surrounded by short red eye lashes. The only strange thing was that rather than having round human pupils, they were small slits like cat eyes.

He didn't have the normal conventional beauty that the nobleman possessed himself but that didn't stop his appeal.

In short – this man was sexy.

He gulped loudly, blushing slightly.

He suddenly remembered the men saying 'prince', not 'princess'…

Maybe this man was the prince? "A-Are t-tu the prince who l-livez in z-zis tower?"

He laughed loudly, flashing large canine teeth like a wolf. "Ye think I'm tha prince?" He laughed again, smirking widely. "Nee… I'm tha monster tha' keep tha poor, bonnie 'maiden' in his tower."

Suddenly he remembered a different part of the knight's and trader's conversation.

'They can appear as humans do'…

This man wasn't his prince.

It was the monster.

**(A/N – Surprise France! The monster looks human and is hot! (That's mainly due to my favouritism towards my own country but I have tried to be equal….)**

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	69. Story 14 Chapter 9

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter eight**

Iain smirked as he heard the man's heat beat speed up when he grabbed him.

He slammed him against the tower and lifted him up. He was light, probably not a very strong human. Definitely not a fighter or a threat.

He could see, hear and smell everything about this man at this distance.

He was very rich with a heavy perfumed scent of roses and the partially hidden, washed-out smell of recent sex.

The man's heart beat became faster when he held up the dying torch for light.

The dragon laughed loudly when he was asked about being the prince. It just seemed ridiculous that he would be mistaken for a prince who wore dresses.

"Tu are the m-monster?"

"Aye." He grinned, showing off his fangs again. The man was squirming slightly in his grip and his cheeks were rosy with a blush. He smelled like a mixture between fear and lust. A strange combination.

Iain looked up suddenly as he heard footsteps. They must have been louder than he thought if he woke him.

Arthur pulled the red curtains back from the window, letting the light stream out and light up the clearing. He stuck his head out of the window and glared down at them.

"Can you please shut it, you git! It's bad enough that I have to listen to you every day, I don't want to do it every night as well!" His frowned suddenly when he realised there was another head that had blonde hair. "Who else is with you?"

He worried that it might be Alfred. It was hard to see from this distance but the man had blonde hair and blue eyes, just like the knight.

The beast laughed. "I dinnae ken. I just caught this wee mannie coming here tae court ye princess with some bonnie flowers. Roses tae. They're yer favourite, right?"

The dragon flicked his foot under the roses so they jumped up. He grabbed them with one hand, keeping the other one on the French man, holding him in the air so his feet couldn't touch the ground. He threw the roses up high into the air. They sailed gracefully right into the cross dresser's face. He scowled as he jumped back and caught them.

"You wanker! I'm a man! Go court someone else!"

"Ze princess iz an ill-tempered English man? How dizappointing…."

"Go away you fucking frog! I don't like French people either!"

"Oui! I think I will if tu are ze only un in zis tower!"

"Good!"

"I 'ope tu rot in there forever!"

"I hope Iain eats you!" He paused for a moment in thought before adding. "And gets a stomach ache!"

"Iain?"

"The fucking man who is holding you!" The nobleman turned his head back down to the red head that was still holding him up by his jacket with one hand with absolute ease. He had his other hand on his hip lazily.

"Tu 'ave a name?"

"Aye. Ye dinnae?" He sounded a little peeved.

"Well… Oui... J'appelle Francis." Francis noted it was probably to do with the fact that he doubted that the man had a name. Many people probably just assumed he was a mindless animal or monster.

"Now just sod off! And take him with you!" The prince shouted, throwing the flowers directly at Iain.

The man tilted his head back and gently breathed a fire ball into the falling flowers. The roses exploded in a sea of flames and rained down messily. The two are the ground were coated in the burning remains.

The red head didn't even seem to notice the hot petals brush against his skin while Francis was frantically trying to escape them and their heat. He panicked slightly as they burned small black spots into his light blue jacket. Arthur slammed his curtains shut, coating the clearing in darkness once again.

"What are tu?" Francis cried out, suddenly remembering that this man wasn't actually a human and that he was alone in the dark with him. The man didn't answer his question. The blonde soon found himself on his feet.

"Now scram! Dinnae come back either oor I'll haff yer guts fer garters." The Scotsman shoved him away from the tower with his jacket. The blonde straightened his clothes and dusted off the dirt, fixing and perfecting his appearance again with a pout.

"But I want to stay with tu…." He muttered, his voice giving a small squeak of fear as he felt something brush very close to him. He wished the moon was fuller and wasn't blocked by the trees so he could see more.

"Nee." The voice came from a different direction now. The man was moving about in the darkness.

"Why?"

"'Cause…." There was a pause. A burst of flames gave away his position. He held the torch which was lit again.

Francis could see him clearer now and appreciate his beauty more. Iain forcefully passed it back to the noble man. The blonde felt safer in the light and calmed down, keeping his eyes on the red head; studying every bare inch of him. He felt happy that the man had chosen only to wear a pair of trousers.

"I'mma ferocious dragon guarding a poor, pitifully trapped princess." His voice sounded slightly sad and lonely underneath the rough, annoyed exterior. Though Francis thought he might be imagining that. The red head wasn't smiling or frowning but his face was set in hard line like he was almost glaring. "Now shoo!" He finally snapped.

"Un dragon? Tu don't look like one." He accused teasingly.

"I am."

"I can't leave anyway…."

"Why?"

"Tu scared off moi horse. He was a pure breed royal stallion too." He sniffed annoyed at the loss of his best horse. It was a gift from his king.

"…."

The Frenchman held the torch up higher, to see his expression better. He looked bemused, slightly puzzled and interested.

"Yer a strange one."

"Non. I jus' prefer ze finer and more beautiful thingz in life." He practically purred at the dragon. He laughed in amusement and the French man joined in nervously.

"Ye can stay that night 'til it's safe fer ye tae walk home." Francis grinned mischievously and happily. "One moment." The dragon said absently as he jumped onto the wall of the tower.

His fingers had suddenly grown huge, fat, black claws that burrowed into the rock so he could cling to the building. The French man was shocked at the sudden change. He climbed up quickly to the window and crawled into the window through the curtains.

Francis's touch's glow didn't reach the window but he could roughly make out what was happening from the sounds. He could here crashing as the two moved about in a hurry, probably fighting over something. He heard a volley of insults. And lots of smashing as some things was thrown against other things.

Suddenly something flew from the window.

It crashed to the ground, shattering into a dozen pieces.

It appeared to be a vase of daffodils.

Another thing hurtled out from the window.

This time it didn't fall though. It circled in the air casually.

Arthur ripped the curtains open and once again, the place was lit up.

The thing was Iain who was carrying a pillow and a blanket in his claws that now had holes in them. He had two large red wings protruding from his back. The prince, who was wearing a light pink girl's nightie, threw a mirror at him and he dodged it easily.

"Sod off, you wanker!"

"Shut it, ye wee brat!"

"I don't care! I don't want that frog staying here!" The dragon blew a small fire ball at the yelling English man who ducked, closing the curtains. The curtains burst into flames. "Now, look what you did! You wanker! You burned my curtains!"

"Ye made meh!"

"Shut up! And give me back my bedding!"

"Ye fucking arsehole!" He threw the pillow back hard. It knocked the prince over so he disappeared from view. As for the blanket, He ripped it up like paper, threw it in the air and burned it with a long, large breath of fire. "And Francis is staying fer tha night! Git over it!" The dragon swooped near the window, growling, daring the prince to say otherwise.

The prince didn't reappear after that display of power and anger. Francis guessed he was sulking.

The man glided back down to the earth. The wings remained, even as he landed again. He grinned slightly.

"Ye can stay tha night. I dinnae think me brother's gonnae let ye stay in his room though." He smirked. "Like he has a choice."

Francis laughed before his stomach gave a rather weak rumble. The Scottish man laughed this time but was quickly silenced when his own stomach rumbled.

He had already eaten tonight but it was a small meal – only one goat. Dragons had a very high metabolism and generally quite large bodies that used a lot of energy. They required a lot of food. It wasn't unusual for him to hunt more than once in one night.

It was unusual though to have to think about a human who wasn't stuck, out of his way, in a tower.

Arthur wouldn't let him stay for now, so the dragon had to either take the man with him or leave him alone, outside in the woods where wolves will probably find him and eat him….

**(A/N – I told you the chapters would get longer!**

**Ahh, in case you are wondering about the geography of this AU, it's nothing like our world. It only has one big circular continent with five large kingdoms. A North one, a South one, an Eastern one, a Western one and a Central one.**

**What nationality you are does not matter what kingdom you come from but rather the region within the kingdom. There is a Scottish region, a French region, a Russian region, a Norwegian region, an Indian region etc. (basically one for every country in our world) They are all roughly the same size but different shapes. The terrains are roughly like ours.**

**The regions sometimes over lap the kingdom's borders so you can come from the same region as someone but a different kingdom.**

**As for where each character comes from. The country they are in at the moment is where Russia and America come from (though they were born in different regions). France comes from the kingdom to the West. Scotland and England both come from the Northern kingdom.**

**Understand?**

_**SPECIAL BULLETIN – I have a poll so you can vote for what has been your favourite story so far! It's on my profile so it should be easy to find. The votes might affect future stories!**_

**REVIEW PLEASE! The more you review, the quicker I write.)**


	70. Story 14 Chapter 10

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter nine**

Francis had never had such a thrilling experience.

(Apart from sex which he was hoping to have with this man… er… dragon later.)

The red head just swept him up into his arms like he was nothing more than a simple paper doll. He gasped with shock and exhilaration as he felt the cold air rush around him, dropping his torch. The two head up vertically, quickly passing the tree line and after 15 minutes entering the lowest cloud line.

The air was slightly thinner up here so the nobleman had some difficulty breathing while the dragon didn't even seem to notice. The blonde eventually found that slow, deep, even breaths helped.

The moon was brighter up here.

He had closed his eye in fear at first. This was far the highest he had ever gone and he doubted any human had ever reached this height before as well. Dragons were rare and solitary, unlikely to even consider giving a ride to a human.

After a few minutes, he risked opening his eyes and regretted it instantly.

He screamed loudly.

In his opinion, they were too high.

Trees looked like grass from up here.

Everything was too far away.

It was terrifying.

Frightening.

Horrifying.

Scary.

"Can we go lower?"

"Lower?"

"Oui!"

"We are low."

"Lower then!"

The dragon shrugged slightly but did indeed fly lower. It was easy to breathe again and he felt safer. After he got over his fear, he began to marvel at the strange new world he was in. It was beautiful.

The moon was brighter and the stars were brighter and unmarred. The small, waning moon was unhindered here so its weak light spread everywhere easily. The world seemed dazzling up here, like it was glowing proudly, far above the dirt.

He stared around his in wonder at the miracle of this unique sky world. He could feel the freezing air on one half of his body but the burning heat from the dragon's chest kept him warm and stopped him from shivering.

He wondered briefly to where they were going when the dark green forests ended and fields began.

They were over farming land now.

They suddenly dropped drastically and the blonde gasped in fear and horror at the imminent splat.

He soon found them travelling at high speeds, only a few feet above the earth horizontally. The man quickly slowed down when another field came into sight. It had things grazing in it.

Cows.

He was hunting for food for them both.

At least that meant that the French man wasn't going to end up as a snack.

They stopped on the edge of it. Here on the ground, he couldn't see much again. Without the trees though, some moonlight did reach him. He could see the silhouettes of everything but not any detail or distinct shapes.

The red head released him suddenly. He heard the ripping of cloth, a low rumble sound and the cows suddenly standing up and moving away quickly in fear. There was a sudden whoosh as he felt the man fly up again. The wings felt bigger though, judging by the larger amount of wind produced.

Francis waited alone and nervously in the night for the man to return. After what felt like an eternity, but what was really 5 minutes, a thunk was heard followed by ripping and tearing. The nobleman squeaked in fear.

Suddenly though a fire appeared.

The scene was a shock.

A whole tree was pulled out of the ground and torn to shreds and set ablaze in a massive bonfire. The blonde stared at the makeshift fire, thinking that its size was a bit extreme for cooking food for only two people. He turned to the red head to express his opinion, expecting to see a proud, smirking man, but screaming when he saw a huge scaly creature.

The thing was sitting back on it haunches, staring attentively at him, in all its glory. The fire reflected a deep ruby colour in its scales, highlighting the beautiful crimson to its brightest. The light bounced off of the shining onyx horns on his head. The monster gave a low rumbling laugh in amusement, like it found the man's terror funny.

"I-Iain?"

The dragon nodded, apparently not able to speak in this form. The bonfire lit up most of the field. The cows looked terrified of the red dragon. Iain soon left Francis by the fire again, to 'collect' some of the cows to eat.

He swooped down on the running creatures, plucking them away like daisies. Francis could hear the startled moos before they became silent. He never actually saw the event as it was just in the outer regions of the light that the deed happened.

Each time, the dragon returned with a dead cow which he placed near the fire. Soon he had four of the grazers ready to eat. The dragon removed one from his pile and prodded it closer to the Frenchman. Francis looked at it in disgust.

"Tu don't expect me to just it like this?" The beast tilted its head to the side in question like it was confused. "How do tu eat ton food then?"

The creature lowered its muzzle to the closest cow and clamped it jaws around its leg. It snapped the entire leg away from the animal and tossed it into the air. It opened its mouth and caught it easily, swallowing it whole. It looked back to the blonde who was a pale green.

Francis had not been prepared to see the bone snap, the blood gush or the flesh rip like that…

"Tu eat it RAW? Without ze chewing?" It nodded then shrugged slightly, before pulling off another leg. It breathed fire over it until the thing was black in a layer of charcoal. The dragon then ate it again, this time chewing it. The bone and burnt flesh crunched loudly in his fangs and Francis cringed at the sound.

It was just as bad as the first time around…

It seemed dragons could eat their food in most ways.

"Humans, particularly moi, cannot simply eat their food like this! How does ton frère eat?" It shrugged clearly never paying attention to the prince's eating habits. It probably just got whatever the man requested to eat and never thought about it.

"Well… Do not worry. I 'ave experience in ze kitchen and can surely prepare zomething from zis mezz. After all, I am French. Ohonhonhonhonho~"

The man approached the cow before realising he didn't have a kitchen or anyway to prepare his food.

"Pardon moi, Iain." The dragons looked up from its meal on the second cow. It had been eating its abdominal area and had his muzzle and snout coated in blood from dipping its mouth into the farm animal's stomach in order to reach it soft, warm guts.

They were his favourite parts to eat, without having any bones to get in the way. Though he ate most of the bones anyway…

The nobleman retched mentally at the sight, gagging slightly. "C-could help moi prepare ze meat?... I do not 'ave ze knife to cut…."

After carefully directing the culinary-clueless dragon how to prepare meat, using his claws like knifes, to be cook and eaten by humans, the Frenchman began cooking it. He had found rosemary and other small herbs growing in parts of the field so it was well-seasoned.

He had only required a couple of steaks so the red scaled dragon had gotten to eat an extra cow. He was currently using a long forked tongue to wipe blood from his nose and lips. He looked content, lying so part of his body was in the bonfire in the heart of the flames. It had died down considerably since it was made but the centre was still strong.

Francis was staring at the tongue curiously, wondering if the human version had such a long tongue.

It would be convenient for… something perverted….

It tongue flicked slightly over the last spot of blood before the dragon sighed. It sounded decidedly lonely but happy in the moment.

Nostalgic.

"Iain."

The dragon looked up in surprise. Francis stared at the emeralds, quickly realising that these brightly, glow green irises were the same as his human form. His breath was caught for a moment in the memorising eyes before he finally asked the question that had been puzzling him for a long time.

"Why did tu lock ze prince in ze tower?" "The beast opened its mouth to speak but only a low growling noise came.

The blonde nearly laughed.

Iain the 'fearsome' dragon looked like he was almost pouting about his inability to speak.

"If tu can not zpeak, tu can change back, right?" He suggested lightly. The dragon tilted its head slightly. He looked reluctant now. It was strange how the lizard had all the facial expression and emotions as a human face would have.

"What iz ze matter?" The dragon gestured to something on the ground. It was just torn cloth.

"Oh!" The French man turned back to the dragon. "Tu don't 'ave any clothes because ton clothes were destroyed when you change?" The dragon nodded. Francis smirked slightly perversely but Iain just rolled his eyes.

He scratched his claw into the ground. It seemed like he was writing.

M-O-N-S-T-E-R

"Monster?"

It nodded.

"Tu are a monster?"

It shook it head annoyed, flickering its tongue.

It brushed its tail in a circle in thought before scratching something else into the ground. It was a circle with a couple of symbols in it. Francis stared in wonder at the markings, looking only at Iain to see him bit into his arm hard.

Blood flowed from the teeth marks which were deep. The crimson liquid dripped freely from the wound, falling onto the circle. The circle glowed a dark red.

The nobleman had heard of dragons being very magical and their blood being used in most spells.

The red glowing eventually turned a pale sky blue. The dragon touched its nose to the glowing soil before leaning across the circle to the blonde.

The blonde felt his arm lift without thinking and placed it on the nose. The dragon made a small noise.

Francis suddenly felt himself fall forward into the dragon, like he was being dragged.

He closed his eyes in fear and screamed again.

**(A/N – Warning! Sappy and heart breaking back story is imminent! You have been warned….**

**For a fairy tale based story – it's actually kinda dark and slightly too realistic and descriptive… I shouldn't become a children's writer. They would just end up crying.**

_**SPECIAL BULLETIN – I have a poll so you can vote for what has been your favourite story so far! It's on my profile so it should be easy to find. The votes might affect future stories!**_

**This is seriously the last time I'm going to say this. If you haven't voted by now then shame on you! This is important! Depending on the type of stories you like, I will write more of that type. Majority rules BTW. That's democracy. **

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	71. Story 14 Chapter 11

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter ten**

The next time Francis opened his eyes, he was floating.

He tried to blink in surprise but was even more surprised to discover he didn't have eyelids.

Or eyes.

Or a face.

Or a body.

Or anything really.

He was just mentally floating as the scene before him played.

It started off with a beautiful blonde girl of about 5, finding a large plain looking egg. She was extremely dazzling in appearance, drawing the eyes of any young boy that pasted her. Her light green eyes were only focused on the creamy egg though in curiosity and care. She stroked the smooth beige shell in wonder. He watched her roll the egg back to her simple peasant home.

The image dissolved and resolved again with the egg hatching. A small red snout poked from the egg, followed by a head with its eyes closed. The blonde girl stared at it in wonder, smiling a breath-taking smile. The red dragon's eyes fluttered open. The easily recognisable emerald eyes came into view.

It was Iain's birth.

Or hatching as it were.

The red creature stumbled clumsily from the shell and into the girl's open arms. She giggled happily and stroked his scaly head, touching the small strange twisting black horns. She then placed a shiny silver pendant around his ruby neck.

The imaged switched again to that of the same girl but older, she was 16 or 17 playing with a 4 year old who looked at her was absolutely adoring eyes. He had red hair, pointed ears and bright green eyes. He had an unusually innocent smile as he gazed up at her lovingly. The adoration was clear.

Francis looked at the girl. She had amazingly grown even more stunningly beautiful. She was gorgeous, almost like a human goddess. She had a strange book with a magical symbol on the front, showing that she probably knew some magic. She had most likely been the one to teach Iain.

Francis soon realised that this was probably the woman who raised the dragon. The red head probably considered the striking blonde as his mother. He quickly realised that these were the red dragon's memories.

Iain was showing him his very precious memories.

The image disappeared again and reappeared as the blonde being 20 something and Iain being about 7. She aged much quicker than the dragon. She was dressed in white at a surprisingly grand and magnificent wedding for a peasant.

The nobleman quickly recognised the stoic, German man she was marrying as a king of a close-by country. He had long hair with a singular braid and green eyes which were slightly darker than hers. Francis watched as the red haired child over see the wedding from the church's rafters, obviously not allowed in the actual wedding.

He waved at his mother when she glanced at him. She smiled warmly and waved back subtly. He broke out into a wide grin, happily watching her.

Francis blushed at the sheer virtue and happiness of the beaming boy. He was just so different from the colder, older self who didn't seem to love any one strongly.

As the scene faded, the blonde wondered what happened and how this explained why he had the prince in the tower. He hadn't even seen the prince appe~

Another image appeared of the blonde holding a baby to her chest. She was dressed regally like a queen now, and in her thirties. The king was behind her, hugging her nervously with a blush on his face like he was unsure of what to do in the situation. The baby boy in her arms had light blonde hair and thick eyebrows. The 12 year old dragon was leaning over him shyly. He smiled at the child and petted him.

Francis could recognise the baby as the very young prince. If his mother bore the prince, that meant that Iain and the Prince were actually like brothers. He watched a few later scenes of the boys playing together happily. They had gotten along very well as children.

When the prince reached 4 years old though, something happened in this strange retelling of Iain's life with his brother and mother. A strange Italian man appeared in one of the memories. He was tall with brown curly hair, strong looking and unusually handsome.

He had approached the dragon in the garden one day, while he was basking in the golden sun. It was clear that the red head had a natural dislike for him, like an instinct. The Italian appeared friendly, mainly asking questions about the Queen, which Iain avoided or shrugged to.

But something seemed off about the brown haired man.

Suddenly the man just swung a sword at Iain's head.

He dodged it out of pure instinct and luck.

When he realised what had happened, he hissed angrily at the man. He was just about to attack and possibly kill this man when the brunette laughed.

The tanned man claimed it was just a joke to test his speed.

The dragon looked doubtful like he thought it was a lie but wasn't sure.

It turned out to be a lie….

A week later the man reappeared.

This time he came to talk to the queen.

He was deceptively good-looking, almost too prefect but not in the same way as the Queen. He stared eerily at Iain's mother as she watched Iain play with the young prince. They talked a little but it was tense.

The 12 year old dragon was holding a hare doll and pretending that it was hopping around the baby blonde. He looked up though when the two adults started arguing.

He stood up, telling the other boy to stay on the floor away from the fight. The dragon stood between the tanned man and the prince protectively. He kept looking worriedly at his mother. The blonde looked very angry.

Suddenly she slapped him.

The man paused before his face contorted in anger. The Italian man transformed unexpectedly, forcing the Queen to step back.

She looked terrified as the handsome man became a bulking, black troll like monster. It had huge claws, glowing venomous yellow eyes, huge teeth, thick black skin. It was ugly and like a stereotypical monster, the complete opposite of his other form.

It grabbed at the comparatively frail blonde who struggled and fought against him.

Iain leaped at the creature's back, his human form growing wings, a tail, horns and claws. It clung and clawed at its back, trying to force it away from his precious mother.

The monster just swatted the boy away with his powerful free arm.

The dragon flew back against the wall, landing with a sickening crack.

Francis could see his eyes widen in unfamiliar pain. The Queen tried to reach out to him, begging for him to be safe. The prince had begun to cry loudly. His loving older brother and kind mother were being hurt by this strange beast.

Suddenly Iain was back attacking the troll again. His human form was gone completely now. The difference in strength between this form and the last was obvious. The small red dragon was now more of a challenge for the monster.

He had to release the gasping Queen who crumpled without the creature holding her up. The dragon was clawing at him. He was only the size of a large dog at this age. The monster was still stronger than him.

It fought and swung in annoyance at the young dragon, eventually catching him.

The red scaled being struggled in its grip, trying to break free. The troll took a wing in one hand and pulled. Francis flinched when he heard the awful snap, following by a screaming roar of agony and tears. It laughed at the pained and pulled harder, meaning to pull off the wing completely.

The flesh was torn and it began to bleed.

Suddenly a blonde hurled herself at the monster.

The queen distracted him enough for the dragon to scramble away in a panic with a limp bloody wing.

The monster, angry at losing the opportunity to de-wing the dragon swiped a huge clawed hand at the queen, striking her delicate body across the chest.

She screamed in pain.

The dragon screamed in rage and tears as he watched his precious and beloved mother fall to the ground.

The prince was silent now as he fainted from shock.

The monster suddenly turned to the prince. It had a new target, now that its previous one was dead.

The dragon charged in fury. The red head was determined not to lose another precious family member. He attacked carelessly, determined to take revenge. The monster was surprised by the sudden intensity of attack. He fell back in surprise. It lifted it hands up in defence but was too slow.

It lost a yellow eye to a black claw.

It cried out in surprise.

The dragon didn't stop. It bit the monster and clawed at it.

Suddenly voices were heard from down the corridor. The monster quickly disappeared, fleeing the room out of the window. The last words from its mouth were swearing to the dragon that he would come back for the Prince in return for losing an eye.

The dragon collapsed exhausted, transforming back to the form of a naked, 12 year old boy. He pulled himself over to the bleeding body of his mother. He shook her shoulders like he was trying to wake her, crying large loud tears and calling her name. He wailed in distress at the sudden lost.

Francis felt a stab in his heart as he watched the boy beg for his mother not to die. He hugged her to his chest, as the first of the soldiers entered.

They gasped in shock at the scene before turning their weapons on the boy.

Francis suddenly knew what was going to happen.

They were going to blame Iain for the Queen's death.

It was clear by the distrust and fear in their eyes. They had rushed to the room after hearing the queen scream. When they had entered, what they saw was the naked form of a recently changed dragon, splattered with blood, leaning over the dead queen who had died from a swipe of large claws.

The boy, who was smeared with the blood of the queen and monster, clung to the queen desperately as the soldiers approached warily with swords and spears raised. The blood was sprayed up his body and across his face which was smudged by his sorrowful tears.

It did seem like he was the one responsible to the soldiers, though he tried to explain in non-understandable hiccups what had happened.

The closest one suddenly lunged at him with a screech. He jumped back in fear and soon the rest attacked.

Iain didn't try to attack any of them back though.

He just leaped back, avoiding the swinging swords and stabbing spears. After a few moments of being attack ruthlessly, the dragon turned and ran. He grabbed the limp body of the blonde prince and sprinted for the window.

The red wings burst from his back but one was crooked as he jumped out of the window.

Francis watched in fear as the dragon flew lop-sided with a limping wing. Since he couldn't support his weight plus the young prince's weight with the broken wing, he ended up gliding down at an awkward angle from the high window.

He flew in between gliding and falling for miles, his grief fuelling his will-power to go on despite his broken body's protests. Occasionally he would plummet and it seemed like they would crash, only for him to barely rescue it from a messy end.

He was soon out of the kingdom and into the next.

Eventually the exhaustion and pain took over and he dropped from the sky. He crashed through the tree line, hitting branches and twigs as he fell. Francis watch as the red head stumbled in his landing, making sure he was the one to hit the ground hard instead of the Prince.

He stood up, checking that his brother was still unharmed and safe. The red haired boy was covered in lots of tiny cuts which were unnoticeable because of the blood.

Once he was safely on the ground, he ran.

He had already left the kingdom where he grew up, chased out because of his mother's death. He had no reason to return. The only thing he knew was to protect the toddler in his arms from the monster.

He held his unconscious younger brother to him tightly. He kept running though, with occasional tears streaming down his cheeks until the sunset was quickly approaching. He finally fell back against an old oak tree and burst into loud tears.

He didn't know what to do now, that was obvious. He had spent his entire life being protected and looked after by his mother.

Francis willed himself to try and hug the red head in comfort but this was a memory. He could do nothing but watch.

After a while, working out his tears and sadness, the boy stood again. He wandered blindly through the woods as the light began to fade.

Soon he came to a small meadow. In the meadow were the destroyed remains of a large tower. It had crumbled so it was just half of a tower, lying around the grassy area.

To Francis, it looked like a dump.

However, the red head looked at the place in wonder like he had found a haven.

He stumbled to the nearing large grey brick and placed the unconscious prince beside it.

The boy then drew a circle, much more complicated than the one he would use in the future on Francis.

When he was done, he tore open his arm clumsily, not caring about the amount of damage done. The blood gushed onto the ground, activating the magical circle. The whole place glowed brightly. The building began re-assembling itself until it was a new tower, the one which existed today with the prince inside.

"I promise I will protect you"

_I promise._

This was why and how the prince was in the tower.

The flash backs started to continue, filled with him fighting with the prince as their relationship fell apart from the stress and the loneliness, but the French man had had enough.

"Iain… I've seen enough…"

He felt the world go black before he opened his eyes again.

**(A/N – I am not a Grandpa Rome hater. In fact I love him! But he and Scotland have some really really bad history together so it's only natural that he would be Scotland's enemy. I needed a bad guy. Sorry Rome!**

**This is actually kinda similar to what happened in Scotland's real history with Rome and Britannia's death. (Though it is actually sadder and more heart breaking than this story! Sorry Scotland – I'm a sap for men with broken pasts…. TT^TT)**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	72. Story 14 Chapter 12

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter eleven**

Francis opened his eyes and wasn't surprised to find his cheeks wet from tears streaming down them.

His hand was still on the dragon's snout. Iain's eyes stared deeply into his, waiting for a response.

The fire had gone out a while ago. Obviously hours had passed. The man flopped forward and wrapped his arm around the burning neck of the dragon. His body suddenly felt heavy.

A glimmer of light on the horizon showed that day break was quickly on its way. The dragon looked tired too.

Francis suddenly felt his body go limp.

The dragon quickly picked him up as he took flight. The man dangled from his claws as the dragon flew high. Francis was still conscious but too tired to be terrified.

They pasted up through several crowd layers. The Frenchman had to gasp for what little oxygen he could find while Iain seemed content at this ridiculously high height. It was at least four times higher than earlier. This was probably his normal altitude, judging by his ease and calmness.

The moon was huge here and flying over the crowds, they seemed almost solid. They looked so comfy and fluffy that he was tempted to lie on one. France shivered every time he went through a cloud. The icy water crystals clung to his hair, making it damp.

He would complain but to be honest, the lack of breathable air prevented him.

Soon the red dragon dived, circling around the tower.

The journey back had been much shorter, since the Scottish dragon had to search around for food. Iain landed on the roof gracefully, placing the blonde down with care and ease. Iain curled up sleepily, holding Francis to his under belly protectively.

The French man sighed against the heated scales, feeling his eyes grow heavy. He gave a small gasp though when he felt the dragon's body change behind him. It felt strange feeling the flesh contract and shrink into that of a man.

The blonde bushed when he realised that the red head would be naked. The sky was becoming lighter every minute and he was tempted to turn and try to see the man. Instead though, he found himself asking questions.

"Tu keep ton frère in zis tower to protect 'im?"

"Aye…."

"Is ze monster ztill out there?"

"Aye…"

"Why iz 'e wearing a dress?"

"Tha monster is looking fer a male prince. He wonnae take notice of some female princess." Francis pondered that fact.

It was a good idea.

Silly, strange and slightly crazy but good.

Especially if it had worked for so long.

"Does ton frère know any of zis…" He felt the dragon tense behind him.

"…. Nee… He doesnae ken of tha monster or why he cross dresses… He cannae remember her…"

"Why don't tu tell 'im?"

"He hates meh fer his fate… I dinnae want him tae hate meh fer oor mother's either…"

"But it was not ton fault!"

"… I ken… But it feels like it. I could haff killed him when we first met, before he met tha Queen, and none of that would haff happened…."

Francis paused, turning around so he faced into the pale chest. He wrapped his arms around the chest in a hug.

It was purely for comfort and nothing else.

His hand found its way to the red head's hair. The coarse hair felt soft and silky under his touch. It was so contradictory to its appearance. Iain wrapped his arms around him in return. Francis didn't know what to say to that so he said what was the first thing in his head.

"Ton hair is so soft…."

The dragon grunted slightly in response, practically killing the conversation.

Finally after a while the French man asked another question.

"Do tu 'ave any regrets?..."

"Aye… I dinnae kill tha monster when I could and meh mother and brother had tae pay…. I want me revenge." Francis leaned his head on the Scottish man's chest, closing his eyes.

"I hope tu 'ave ton revenge…. Tu deserve it…"

**(A/N – Yes, I know Scotland is lying naked beside France. But it's not like I'm **_**describing**_** it. So technically it's still a T. **_**Technically….**_

**And yes, I know France didn't make a move despite the nudity. **_***le Gasp!***_

**I did warn about minor OOC but to be honest, he is like this in our universe. France may try to sleep with Scotland 9 times out of 10 but he isn't just a horny guy. He can sense when there is a time to make a move on Scotland and there is a time to just hug him and make him feel better. In reality, despite his flaws, he is a very good friend.**

**Just like how Scotland sometimes hits France but he also knows when to just hold him tight and tell France it will be okay. **

**They may not seem like a good match for friends or even lovers but in reality, they are very good for each other. They are very close.**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	73. Story 14 Chapter 13

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter twelve **

The dragon yawned suddenly, his teeth flashing in the early morning sun.

He had originally turned back into a man to take up less room so his blonde guest wouldn't be terrified of sharing a roof with a huge scaly monster. He felt the French man slow his breathing and fall asleep first about half an hour ago when he was in a human form. Once Francis had fallen to sleep, he was back to his reptile form, unable to keep the human form much longer until after he had slept. It didn't matter now that the blonde was asleep.

He had not sleep during the times he usually did and was beginning to feel the negative effects of it.

He had stayed awake though, watching the sun rise and contemplating the day.

It was nice having someone to talk to…

He missed having a friend that didn't yell threats and insults at him.

The dragon sighed content, closing its eyes lazily.

**(A/N – IT'S THE RETURN OF THE SHORT CHAPTER! **

**We are reaching closer to where my writing stops… Then you will have to write for each new chapter… Sucks huh? But the story has been long so far and I think it hasn't been completely crappy. I think it might have been worth the wait. **

**Unless you hate it and you're banging your head off the table crying… Then Sorry…**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	74. Story 14 Chapter 14

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter thirteen**

"It's not my fault that we're so late!"

"Da, it is. I told you we had to get up before dawn to reach the dragon while it was sleeping."

"I was hung over! Plus I needed breakfast! How am I meant to fight a dragon on an empty stomach?"

"The beast will be awake by now…"

"When do dragons sleep anyways?"

"They only sleep for about 2-6 hours each day just before dawn. They usually wake a couple of hours after dawn… which was 5 hours ago."

"I said I was sorry! Gees! Can't you just give me a break?"

"Nyet. Not until I have the red dragon. Now be quiet."

The two sneaked up to the edge of the clearing where the dragon and prince would be. Alfred was desperate to save the man already but Ivan was determined to act slowly and according to their plan. They made sure to come from downwind so the dragon would not smell them and had also come on foot, hoping to fool the beast into thinking that they were just wood land animals.

The Russian scanned the place, his eyes eventually falling on a red lump on the roof. It was still apart from some gentle breathing. He whispered in a hush voice.

"Hmmm… It appears we are not the only ones to sleep in, comrade. This is good, da."

"So I should storm the tower now?"

"Nyet… Let us set up some enchantments… Then you can go save your prince, comrade. You must remember this though… When dragons start to lose, they flee. You must be quick or it will escape."

"Okay!"

"Shhhh!..."

**(A/N – I don't have much to say really…. I spent most of my evening, splitting my one-shot according to the "~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~."s but I didn't realise just how many there were!**

**REVIEW PLEASE! Manners are important to me… Just like your reviews…)**


	75. Story 14 Chapter 15

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter fourteen**

Iain woke with a start.

There was a loud crack.

The red dragon beside him lifted his head quickly.

He turned his scaly head in the direction of the disturbance.

His eyes widened as he saw the blonde knight with a bow.

An arrow rested dangerously close to the position of the previously sleeping dragon.

The American pouted, noticing the arrow missed.

Archery wasn't his best subject. He preferred swordsmanship.

The Russian sigh annoyed from his hidden cover in the trees. The arrow tips were magical and very expensive. He did not wish to waste them.

The dragon stood but didn't move from the roof.

Francis was lying in defence on the roof with his hands on his head protectively, out of view from the two attackers, having waked up when the dragon moved. He could see Iain standing in front of him to protect him.

The dragon smirked at the flimsy looking arrow. The knight was stupider than he looked if he thought arrows would be better than a sword.

Ivan smiled as he watched the dragon smugly stand his ground. The red creature obviously didn't realise that the arrows were charmed. Once the foolish dragon was struck and knew he could be harm, it would flee like every other dragon though.

He had told the knight that once the arrow had hit he had to act very rapidly to prevent its escape.

The blonde pulled the string of the bow back and took a slightly better aim, sticking his tongue out in deep concentration.

The arrow was released.

It headed to the chest.

The dragon ducked out of the way and dove at the knight, focusing on the blonde. He did not realise there was a second attacker lurking in the woods.

The knight dropped the bow in surprise and his remaining arrows scattered. He lifted a shield just in time to avoid the blow.

The dragon landed between the tower and the knight. It growled at the knight annoyed. The knight glared before lunging forward.

The fight continued as it had last time.

The dragon appeared to have the upper hand, swiping claws and breathing fire, forcing the blonde back. Alfred gritted his teeth. He was meant to have hit the dragon with an arrow before fighting it with the sword. The seal on the sword only worked if the dragon was charmed beforehand.

At the moment he was struggling to even hold his ground.

A powerful thud from the red tail sent him backwards.

He was off balance and his shield and sword were away from his torso in a natural reflex to regain balance.

The dragon grinned sadistically, sensing the opportunity to kill this pest.

It raised one hand up with five thick black claws, aiming for his open chest.

The claw came down.

A twang sounded.

Blood dripped to the ground messily.

It had struck its target.

**(A/N – Dun! Dun! DUUN~!**

**Cliff hanger alert!**

**Read on to break this tension!**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	76. Story 14 Chapter 16

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter fifteen**

Francis stared down at the fight in fear and fascination.

He had bit down hard on his bottom lip when he saw the knight stumble, creating an opening. The dragon swung his claws down at the chest meaning to kill him.

Moments before contact though, there was a sudden twang.

The claw stopped just above the blonde.

The smell of blood filled the air.

Iain blinked in surprise as he felt pain stab into his back.

The dragon turned its head slightly, seeing a smiling beige haired man holding a bow.

He glanced down at his back, seeing the arrow deeply imbedded in his red scales.

It took him a moment to realise that his usually steely, invincible scales had been broken.

In that momentarily confusion, the knight stabbed his sword into the dragon's underbelly, barely missing his heart.

The sword entered easily and the dragon jumped back in realisation.

It snarled in protest as its stomach bled.

Ivan yelled to the knight.

"Be wary now comrade! It will try to escape!"

"I know!" Alfred had been told by the Russian that if the dragon tried to leave, Ivan would disorientate it with the fireworks.

Once he had launched the rocket at the beast, the flash would blind it while the sound would stun it then Alfred just had to attack it again.

Unexpectedly to both attackers, the dragon didn't retreat.

Instead it blew fire in a solid arc, forcing the trader and the knight back. It stood closer to the tower. Ivan raised his eyebrow in surprise.

Dragons _always _flee when in danger.

It was their basic instinct and nature.

Suddenly the startled prince appeared at the window.

A light bulb went off in the Russian's head.

The legend; it was true in more than one thing. The red beast didn't just lock the prince in a tower; he protected the tower as well.

Well this made things easier. The dragon would not leave the prince behind. Ivan continued thinking…

The knight started attacking the red beast again. This time though, when the blade hit the scales, they pierced them easier.

The dragon quickly changed his strategy after receiving a few blows and deep wounds; instead of reflecting the blows, he dodged them.

The blonde grumbled in annoyance as his blade struck air for the umpteenth time. The lizard was too fast and flexible, snaking out of the way before the American could strike. The dragon struck him on the arm, forcing him to drop his shield. The steel armour was no match for its claws and it was torn into like paper. His arm gushed blood now but he continued fighting.

The knight kept receiving gashes and cuts on his arms and legs. His armour seemed pointless against the claws. The blood lost was starting to affect him a little. He was getting tired and dizzy now.

He glanced at Ivan who was looking a bit thoughtful in concentration.

Suddenly Ivan smiled a wide tight smile and the American frowned.

Though the blonde was working with the trader, he always felt like the guy was hiding something from him. He did not trust Ivan or his secret motives.

His eyes widened as the man brought out a fire work. If he shot that at the dragon then Alfred would be hit as well. He was being double-crossed!

The dragon turned to see what the knight was glaring at, while also ducking under the steel sword. His super senses allowed him to fight easily and pay attention to other things. The other tall man held a strange thing that he didn't recognise. He pointed it at the still sparring two, the dragon tensed, ready to dodge the potential attack.

Though, when he tilted it up and at the window of the tower and Arthur, the dragon stopped in his tracks. The knight, who was also watching the trader out of the corner of his eyes whenever he had a chance, also saw the sudden intent of the man.

The prince was too distracted by his brother and the knight's fight to see the trader.

Alfred abandoned the dragon, not caring if the beast now had several opening to kill the blonde, and ran at the trader. His human speed was too slow and the firework was lit and launched.

The prince saw the rocket coming towards him but was frozen in shock.

The knight stared wide eyed and unable to do anything.

The dragon appeared suddenly in forward of the window.

The red monster lifted his wings in defence around his body.

The rockets crashed into his wings.

The flesh was ripped because the enchanted arrow had made his scales soft.

All that the knight and trader saw was a bright white flash with a deafening boom.

All the prince and the nobleman saw was a red body being shook with violent force.

When it had cleared everyone saw the red body fall.

**(A/N – In case some of you are wondering, I like reading and writing gory horror. I have been toning it down though but this is still rated a T…. barely a T but still a T…**

**In fact some of my favourite vocaloid songs are the Story of Evil ones, Alice of Human Sacrifice, Trick and Treat etc.**

**Poor Scotland.**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	77. Story 14 Chapter 17

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter sixteen**

The Russian smiled tightly in victory as the red dragon fell.

He had been correct in his theory. He watched the body tumbled from the sky.

The dragon attempted to curl itself into a ball to minimise damage on impact.

It crashed messily and noisily into the ground.

Alfred turned to Ivan angrily. "What are you doing? You could have hurt Artie!"

Ivan smiled brightly. "But you were taking too long. I knew the dragon would do that so no harm done. I helped you, da?"

The blonde knight gritted his teeth.

Iain was currently struggling to his feet. He couldn't see anything except for a bright white haze and his ear rung harshly, destroying his sense of balance. His head buzzed furiously with the shock of the sudden noise and blinding light.

He tried moving.

He felt a sharp, constant pain in the remains of his wings and the place where he hit the ground. He started to blink away the dizziness and blindness.

Arthur watched his brother sway dangerously from the high window. His wings were in tatters so even if he would leave, he couldn't. The blonde prince noted several cuts plus the very deep first one from where the knight's sword had cut the beast before he started dodging and the arrow still protruded from his back.

He felt a wave of mixed feeling course through him at the sight.

The blood was invisible against his scales but a steady trail of red following the scaly animal made the bleeding noticeable.

The knight turned his head to the wounded dragon as it dragged itself blindly forward.

"If you want to defeat the dragon and save your prince, this will be your only chance." The knight glared at Ivan before charging at the bleeding dragon.

Iain suddenly turned his head in Alfred's direction. A burst of fire appeared. The knight jumped back surprised.

"Crap!"

"Remember he can still smell you comrade." He smiled innocently. "Be quick, before he regains his sight and hearing. It will not be long."

The American scowled, still angry at the trader and decidedly not up for taking orders. He attacked again away.

The dragon stumbled backward, clumsily dodging the sword. The sword clipped his shoulder. The red dragon snarled, trying to swipe his claws at him. The dazzle in his eyes was fading and his hearing was nearly back now.

The American saw his chance slowly disappear as the dragon slowly began attacking and defending with more and more accuracy.

Occasionally the knight managed to cut the red beast shallowly and occasionally Iain cut Alfred back. Ivan however saw the red head's blood on the ground and smirked.

He pulled out a magic book and opened it at a certain page. Spells usually required a naturally magic catalyst like dragon's blood or unicorn horn. Lucky that so much of it had been spilt, huh?

He took a handful of earth that the blood had soaked into. Arthur, who had now been warily watching the trader, saw the Russian do this. His eyes widened as he saw the bloodied dirt smeared into the book. He turned to the fighting two.

"Hey! That man is about to use magic!"

The knight turned to the prince.

The dragon turned to the trader.

The nobleman turned to the knight.

The trader turned to the dragon.

The magic activated.

Everywhere that the dragon's blood has spilt, chains appeared. They twisted up and towards the dragon like flowers.

Iain's senses were back by now. He reared back in an attempt to escape their grasp, roaring and growling in pain and anger.

He tried to fly out of their reach but his wings were too torn to work. The silver chains latched on his feet. The dragon pulled his feet from them.

He darted to the tower and climbed about 20m up the tower until he was violently pulled down again. They wrapped around him as he struggled, ripped them up from the ground and tearing them apart.

Any chain destroyed quickly spouted two new ones.

The attack was vicious, quick and unavoidable. His defence was useless; they were faster than him and breaking them created more.

After only a few minutes of the fierce assault, the dragon found his self pinned down to the ground.

The chains were tightening around him as he fought wildly against them.

They were coiled around his chest, pinning his arms to his body and the chains on his legs were laced together in a complicated knot, tying them together. Several were twisted around his wings. One had found its ways to his muzzle, taping it shut and to the ground. His neck had one spiralling down it.

Even in places that didn't require any chains were covered in them.

He was just coated in the chains, unable to move.

He growled through closed lips in rage as he glared in fury at the knight and trader.

The chains tightened again.

They began to cut into his softened flesh and cut off his wind pipe. Blood flowed freely along the chains, dripping to the ground.

No more chains were being formed now that the dragon was immobile.

Alfred stared in wonder at the strange sight. He turned to Ivan shocked as the dragon started choking.

"You're killing him! I thought you wanted him alive, dude!"

The trader turned from the dragon to the knight with a small frown. "I do… He is just too rowdy at the moment so I'm just calming him down. Dragons are very hardy creatures so this will not kill him."

The chains tightened and suddenly the dragon became still.

The beast lay limp on the ground like a corpse.

The chains loosened now, detaching from the dragon and sinking back into the ground. He smiled brightly again and strolled over to the passed out creature.

He stroked the snout.

It felt smooth and warm. There was bruising where the rope had strapped the mouth closed. It felt tender and slightly swollen.

He would have to patch up his prize if he wanted to present him to anyone.

He pulled out a flash from his coat and pointed it up. It flared up high into the sky and exploded in a bright green light.

The signal was released so now he only had to wait….

**(A/N – Russia is kinda like a sub-villian. Rome is technically the real villain though he only appeared in a flashback… SO FAR! **

**That's right! He might appear later if you are good boys and girls and review. *wink wink***

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	78. Story 14 Chapter 18

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter seventeen**

A few miles away, three men waited by a very, very large wagon, which looked more like a house with several sets of wheels, drawn by dozen horses.

The youngest, Ravis, was shaking, though it was not known if it was out of fear or coldness, while feeding one of the horses a carrot.

The second oldest, Eduard, was reading a thick novel sitting beside the driver's seat.

The oldest man, Toris, was in the driver's seat on the lookout for the signal.

They had been waiting there for a long time.

Their master was a trader and had gone off on a mission to hunt another dragon. Apparently it was a special one this time.

Suddenly a green flash in the distance alerted the oldest.

"Ravis. Get in the back please." Toris grimaced when he saw how much Ravis's fear rose and shook nervously.

"O-o-okay…."

Eduard put his book down. "Do you want me to come with you?"

The young boy nodded relieved. The two headed to the back of the wagon, entering the wagon.

Once the two were safely inside, Toris snapped the reins so the houses started moving. They moved exceedingly quick, knowing that their master would not be happy if they were slow.

**(A/N – See! Even the Baltic trio get a small chapter to themselves though this will probably be the extent of their appearances.**

**In case you are wondering about their history in this world, they all come from the North kingdom but different regions. All of their families were poor so they were sold for money williingly. The deal is that if they can pay off their families' debts then they can go free. Unfortunately Russia adds the cost of food and bedding to the debt so it is nearly endless. They are not sad about leaving their families (though they miss them), however they do not like Ivan.**

**Russia is a wealthy trader so travels from kingdom to kingdom and actually doesn't have a real house. He lives in a huge wagon that is more like a big bungalow with wheels. It's big enough to hold a dragon plus all the merchandise, the four people who live there and their kitchen etc.**

**See – Even the minor character had back stories in this. This is just how much I got into this. No wonder I couldn't keep it a one shot….**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	79. Story 14 Chapter 19

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter eighteen**

Alfred watched the signal curiously before a rumble behind him sounded. He spun around quickly; think that the dragon was waking.

Alfred's, Arthur's, Ivan's and Francis's eyes widened.

A huge red circle that seemed like blood glowed angrily around the tower.

Only the Frenchman recognised the circle. It was the one from Iain's memories when he fixed the tower with magic.

The tower creaked in protest as the bloody circle began to disintegrate. The red flaked away, rising up into the air before getting caught in the wind and fluttering away. It seems that the only thing that had held the tower there was the dragon's magic.

The prince grabbed the edge of the window in fear. The whole place shook as the bricks crumbled into dust.

The knight's eyes widened as he soon realised what was happening.

"Jump!"

"What? Are you crazy, you wanker! I'll die!"

"I'll catch you! Jump! I'll be your hero!"

Arthur gritted his teeth and held on tighter to the collapsing window.

"I will catch you! I promise!"

_I promise._

For some reason after hearing those two words, the cross dresser felt safe. A strong sense of nostalgia came from the words, though the accent was different from the knight's.

He nodded stiffly before hiking up his pale pink dress. He stood on the window, gulping as he saw the knight so far away with his arms spread.

He closed his eyes then jumped.

He felt the air rush around him as his body tumbled through the air. The dress fluttered noisily around him, making him seem like a big pink comet. He tried to scream but found himself holding his breath.

Suddenly his rapid descent halted.

His eyes opened and he found himself staring into deep blue eyes that sparkled as the knight grinned at him.

"Told ya!" The prince scowled slightly, blushing a deep shade of pink. He mumbled a few insults and a thank you while Alfred beamed happily.

He was finally a hero.

Another scream distracted him.

He looked up and saw another blonde in what appeared to be a blue dress on the disappearing roof.

"Dude! How many cross dressing princes do you have in that tower!"

The prince looked up confused.

The tower jolted and the noble man was thrown from the roof suddenly.

He fell, screaming.

The knight dropped the prince instinctively as the nobleman fell into his arms.

The Frenchman looked relieved. "Merci."

He blinked as he looked at the knight closely. He was also very handsome. It seemed this country had a surplus of hot men. "If tu want… I can make it up to tu. Ohonhonh~!" The Frenchman purred seductively, acting out of habit, until he was dropped, halting his laugh.

He landed on the prince.

"Ow…."

"OUCH!"

Arthur sat up, pushing the blonde off his body.

"Damn frog face!"

The French man glared at him briefly before turning to the knight with an even harder glare. He stood up proudly and that was when the knight realised he wasn't wearing a dress but a long, light blue expensive coat.

He was an aristocrat.

The man glowered with such intensity that Alfred flinched.

"What did tu do? Why did tu 'urt Iain?" He demanded. Arthur, who was still lying clumsily on the ground dirtying his dress, looked up sharply.

"Who, dude?"

"Ze dragon! Why de tu attack ze dra~!"

He was interrupted by a loud rumbled. The trio looked up to see the tower leaning towards them.

The knight grabbed the blonde in the dress and pulled him to his feet before tossing him over his shoulder easily. He yanked Francis's hand hard and ran from the falling tower.

The tumbling building fell with a loud booming noise that echoed through the trees that faded into the distance.

It had barely missed them.

Dust filled the air from the impact. It took a few minutes for it to settle.

When it did, the clearing was in ruins.

Dirt was thrown up from the impact, spraying it about the clearing. The tower was unrecognisable. Bits of cloth, dresses and furniture were seen throughout the wreckage.

Arthur gasped.

He felt conflicted. He was happy to be free but that was his home…. He had lived there for as long as possible…. He wanted to be free but he wasn't sure about losing the only place he belonged.

Alfred was grinning. In his mind he had been successful. He had rescued two people from a terrible dragon.

Francis was looking around the destroyed clearing in panic.

They were the only three standing in the clearing.

That meant that the Russian had already left with the dragon – probably while they were escaping the tower.

How was he meant to help his new friend now?

**(A/N – The part I have written is nearly over! That means you will have to wait soon… TT^TT**

**It's sad thinking about it…**

**And this story… It had started off as light humour but now it is kinda depressing… What a bad fairy tale….**

**Never mind. I like the story and I hope you do too.**

**NOW REVIEW SO I KNOW IF THAT'S TRUE! PLEASE!)**


	80. Story 14 Chapter 20

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter nineteen**

Though Ivan usually preferred to drive the huge wagon (it gave him a sense of power), he was content with staying in the back today.

He was watching the dragon.

_His_ dragon.

His servants had been exceptionally quick so tonight he will reward them with a free meal, instead of charging them and building up their endlessly debt even more.

The others didn't even see the giant moving, wooden fortress in the dust.

They didn't see the four men bind the red body with chains and haul it in to the wagon.

They didn't see them leave.

Ivan had ordered the others to clean up the blood and bandage the wounds. It was making a mess in his mobile home. The injuries were severe and would kill any human but dragons were study creatures.

The body twitched as the dragon began to wake. It tried to move but was completely unable to. The trick with strong beings was that they required movement to use their muscles. If they were unable to move, they were unable to be strong. Plus the magical unicorn horn infused chains helped.

Its eyes opened sluggishly. The bright emeralds were dull with pain and exhaustion.

The beige haired man watched as they suddenly focused, noticing the new surroundings. He watched it as it attempted to struggle or squirm or move anything. Even his mouth had been clamped together.

It glanced around the room before its eyes landed on the smiling man.

A low guttural growl came from its throat, though it was muffled by the closed lips.

The Russian couldn't help it. He giggled loudly and happily.

"You are a strong-willed one."

The dragon only glared in return.

He walked up to his precious prize and ran his hand along the smooth scales. They were hot, glossy and such a bright red. He lowered his voice threateningly.

"You know regular coloured dragon scales are worth a fortune as are their meat, blood, bones, claws and fangs… Even dragon eyes are worth hundreds of gold coins as medicines and spells… You would be valuable even in pieces if you cannot settle."

The dragon made a small snort, obviously not caring or believing the trader.

The trader's smile tightened before he relaxed a little. His hand was stroking the thick neck, by the throat area. He pressed down on where he knew where the air pipe was. He felt the dragon tense and his eyes showed panic.

The dragon tried to move again, desperately. Its movements slowed as he pressed more, cutting off more oxygen.

Suddenly he released his pressure.

The dragon gulped in heavy breaths through his nostrils in relief.

"But did you know that a live dragon is worth so much more than all of them combined. Many kings and lords will pay and fight wars over even the most common of them. The Emperor of China, Yao, once paid 10,000,000 gold coins for a small 'common' living Japanese black dragon named Kiku. You are lucky that this is the case… otherwise you would no longer be breathing, da?"

The dragon glared in fury at him now but he didn't care. It couldn't do anything and it would soon know its master.

Smoke rose from his lips and nostrils as he tried to breathe fire through the sealed lips. No flames came though and it soon had to give up.

It continued glaring through.

Ivan hummed slightly, stroking the smoky snout and glancing at the still fresh cuts.

"I wonder what you are worth, red one." He asked more to himself than the dragon.

It replied anyway by closing its eyes; he didn't know the answer either.

**(A/N – Whoa! Even China and Japan got mentioned! **

**Their back story is pretty simple and has basically been explained to the extent that I thought about it. Uses your fangirl/boy brains to imagine a story for them. It can be a slave/master relationship or a true/romantic love one or a brotherly/fluffy love story. I left it open for you to invent.**

**Mainly because I couldn't chose myself…**

**I wanted a worldwide simple currency that wasn't used in modern times in our world. Hence the gold coins. Silver and bronze is also another form of currency in this country. The order of value is GoldSilverBronze**

**This story is set a bit in medieval times though it sometimes has a slightly modern twist… like the invention of steel etc.**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	81. Story 14 Chapter 21

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter twenty**

Once Francis had realised that Iain was gone he turned to the knight again.

"What did tu attack Iain like that?"

The knight blinked and answered like it was obvious. "To rescue the prince. That evil dragon was keeping Arthur against him will. He's safe now."

The nobleman raised his voice suddenly. His mother tongue broke out.

"Imbécile! Maintenant, il est en grand danger!" The two stared at him as he yelled at them. "Sacré bleu ... Maintenant, le monstre va venir! Que devrions-nous faire?"

The knight finally spoke, mainly guessing that the nobleman was angry at him for saving the prince.

"Why are you so angry, dude? I just rescued him and you!"

"Le dragon était de protéger le prince, vous stupides américains!"

"We can't understand what you are saying, you stupid frog! Speak English!"

"Or American!"

"It's called English!"

"Tu are both morons! Iain waz protecting ze prince from a troll zat iz after 'im!"

This stunned the other two blondes into silence but Francis didn't notice as he continued.

"I cannot believe 'ow stupis tu two are! Now ze silly British prince is in danger again! Ze dragon cannot protect 'im and it's all ton fault! We 'ave to go rescue moi beau Iain now! But we 'ave no idea whe~"

"Wait, what dude?"

"Did you say my brother was protecting me from a troll?"

"Oui! I know tu brains are petit but try to keep up."

"Can you explain what you are talking about you wanker!"

"Yeah, you're kinda not making sense…"

The French man tutted and crossed his arms.

"Iain 'ad told moi why tu are in ze tower." The English man looked shocked, after he was the one in the tower and he had never been told.

"'e said zat when tu were very young a troll attacked ze Queen of a neighbouring country, ton mère, and then tried to attack tu. Ton frère tried to defend tu but was too weak. Ze monster then left, saying he would hunt ze prince to ze end, so Iain hid tu in a tower in the disguise of a woman. Ze dragon was protecting tu!"

Francis purposely left out the fact the Queen had died and that his older brother was blamed for it.

The prince's mouth hanged open, his knees felt weak. After all it was quite a huge bombshell to discover that there is a powerful monster that has been trying to destroy you for most of your life. That and the person who you thought was the real monster was actually just saving your life.

Alfred looked anxious suddenly. If what this French guy had said was true then he was endangering the prince and the dragon was actually a fellow hero. But on the other hand, it was wrong to lock someone in a tower for whatever reason. It was also wrong to let/help a do-gooder get captured…

The knight suddenly grinned. "I am going to rescue the red dragon and kill the evil troll!" The way he said it, it sounded so simple.

The nobleman rolled his eyes while the prince just blinked, still trying to process the fact his life has been turned upside down.

The knight continued going on about how he would help the dragon and destroy the monster. After a few minutes, what the knight had been saying had finally reached the prince's mind.

"Wait? You're going to rescue my brother?"

"Yeah, dude! I know he was wrong, keeping you in a tower and stuff, but this guy says he did it to protect you."

The prince frowned slightly, more out of habit than actually annoyance. He thought for a while. He didn't know how to feel about the dragon now. He finally decided that he would know after seeing him once again.

"Alright then… You can help my brother…"

"Awesome!"

"But I'm coming with you."

"No way, dude! You will just get hurt!"

"I'm coming!"

"Oui! Moi too!"

"Why are you coming, Frog?"

"Because Iain and moi are lovers!"

"You only met him last night!"

"And what a night it waz! I waz zurprized zat we didn't wake tu." **(A/N – He's hinting at sex but remember that nothing actually happened between the two of them.)**

Arthur blushed heavily and swore slightly under his breath. The knight had a light blush as well.

"Well… I guess we can all go then…"

"But where did the trader go to? We have no idea where he went wanker!"

"Oui. We should should go to ze closest village. Maybe they saw him past through."

"Right, then where is the closest village?" The knight and the nobleman both gave Arthur a funny look. "Well? How am I meant to know? Come on chaps, look alive."

He turned to Alfred. "Lead the way."

"Okay!" He cried out cheerfully. The knight took one step forward before swaying and falling flat onto his face.

The prince rushed to his side panicked and knelt beside him.

He still had a pulse but his tanned complexion was a sickly pale. Arthur had forgotten that the knight had just been in a brutal fight. He saw the dozens of punctures in the armour and blood oozing from them.

"Oh my god. These injuries are pretty serious! He fainted from blood loss!" Francis knelt on the other side of the knight.

"If we take 'im to ze village , we can find ze doctor! If we're lucky, zere might be ze magic healer."

"We are going to need to carry him then."

"But I will get blood on moi coat!" He complained loudly.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, looking at the jacket. When the tower fell and kicked dirt into the air, everything was covered in a thick layer of filth. The mud was smeared on the faces and in their hair and over their clothes.

Even the prince's pink dress and the nobleman's blue jacket were grubby. Francis followed his gaze and grimaced at the grime on his body. The prince worried that dirt might get in the wounds of the knight and infect them.

"Fine then…"

He put one arm under the knight's body and Arthur did the same. They hoisted his body up. The armour made him body heavier than normal. The two began carrying the unconscious Alfred back to the village.

**(A/N – Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! This is the last chapter I have completely written! Now you will have to wait for me to write the next chapter…. TT^TT**

**Translations! - **

**Imbécile****! ****Maintenant, il****est en grand danger****! - ****You idiot! Now he is in great danger!**

**Sacré****bleu ...****Maintenant, le****monstre va****venir!****Que devrions-nous****faire?****!**** - Sacred blue... Now the monster will come! What should we do?**

**dragon était****de protéger****le prince****, vous ****stupides****américains! - ****The dragon was protecting the prince, you stupid American!**

**Languages belong to regions. Though many share similar languages.**

**Just in case you forgot.**

_**SPECIAL BULLETIN – I have a poll so you can vote for what has been your favourite story so far! It's on my profile so it should be easy to find. The votes might affect future stories!**_

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	82. Story 14 Chapter 22

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter twenty one**

Once the trio had reached the village, they rushed into the local bar. If there was ever a need for information, you can always find it in a pub.

No matter what.

They had many stares and strange looks directed at them, they had discovered that a local healer trifled in small, basic spells for scrapes and bruises. Though he had healed most of the smaller wounds, the large gashes on his shoulder, arms and legs were merely scabbed over.

He wasn't bleeding any more at least and the knight was satisfied with the results. They had bought new clothes and armour with the nobleman's incredulity large wallet.

Francis went overboard, purchasing the finest coat and the most expensive shoes and clothes.

Alfred bought replacement armour, though it was not as good as the previous set, and a sword and shield.

Arthur ended up buying a simple suit.

"I didn't realise how roomy dresses were compared to trousers…"

"Missing ton skirt? If tu want I can buy tu one. Ohonhonho~ Maybe tu are un fille."

"Bloody wanker! I was merely stating that trousers are slightly more constricting than dresses! I am still a man!"

The French man just smirked while the prince blushed furiously. The knight laughed and gripped the blonde's shoulder, who then turned a deeper shade of red.

Information on healers and clothing stores were not the only thing that passed their ears in the pub.

They had discovered that several locals had heard of the trader and had seen his house moving through the town towards the Eastern kingdom.

Since they were in the Canadian region (which is in the eastern part of the Central Kingdom, though people usually forgot about it…), they were already close to the East Kingdom.

There was another rumour of a legendary huge black market, called the 'Black Bazaar', hidden underground where slaves, exotic animals, black magic and illegal items were traded, sold, bought, oohed at, bragged about or showed off.

Apparently there were also huge fighting arenas where slaves fought for freedom or the entertainment of the rich merchants and where animals were paraded and battled against each other.

The stronger animals brought more money or fame to the owner. The rarer the creature, the better as well….

What made the place infamous though was because it was the only place in the world where living dragons were held in captivity. They were treated like the rest of the merchandise as these normally rare and dangerous beasts were reduced to pets or freak shows or fighting each other for survival.

Arthur paled when he heard the vague rumours. He was instantly demanding to be taken to this 'Black Bazaar'.

After being laughed at for simply demanding the location of a secret underground bazaar and the prince yelling angry insults, they were told of the most likely place that the supposed market would exist and that a small cart was passing by that area on the way to the Taiwan region.

After arguing with the cart owner, the poor man eventually relented and let the odd trio join him on his journey.

Though he was stopping near the market, he was passing by the area by mere coincidence. And because of his unfortunate luck, he was now forced to take three strange, disagreeing men across the country.

**(A/N – Isn't it funny how the less spare time I have, the faster I write? **

**One of my ff friends just pointed out what kind of one-shot has 21 chapters?... You know, I never really thought about how long it was until she mentioned it… Now I'm think – What the fuck kinda oneshot is this? It's 19,000 words!**

**Oh! And for people who voted – you are awesome! You 15 people are my favourites! As for the rest – vote or I'll release pervy France on you. And I also got handy tip to have names in the poll thing to make it easier. To be honest I couldn't remember writing half of these stories…. ~^~**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	83. Story 14 Chapter 23

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter twenty two**

Iain had slept for most of the journey; sleeping and healing. Dragon healed very quickly, especially if they are resting.

He didn't want to sleep though.

There was a sleeping charm placed on him after he refused to calm down. When the chains started cutting him, that was when the trader grew fed up.

When he opened his eyes again, he didn't know how long he had been in that place or where this place was now. The tall man was no longer here.

He felt the caravan rumble loudly as it moved along rough, rocky ground. The air smelt foreign and strange. He could smell granite, moss, strange flowers and the cool higher up air. Maybe they were on a hill or up a mountain?

He already missed the damp, warm smelling forest where the wagon moved nearly soundlessly over the fresh, crisp grass.

Here, it was too loud for his senses.

He cringed when one of the wheels hit a big bump, making the whole place shake and groan noisily.

He tensed when he heard a door open. His emerald slit eyes glared at a nervous brunette. He held a bucket and cloth. The brunette turned and yelled out of the door.

"Uh… M-mister Ivan!... T-the d-d-d-dragon is awake, sir!" The tall man appeared.

"Ah. It seems our little house guest has woken. It does not matter, da. We are actually at the entrance to the bazaar." The dragon's eyes widened.

He did remember that Ivan mentioned the value of live dragons and wondering about his price earlier.

He tried moving again, pulling at the chains violently. Though, he still was completely unable to even twitch. The Russian chuckled at his attempts before turning to the brunette.

"His wounds should be gone by now. Clean up the blood well Toris. We want him nice and shiny to present to the market, da?"

Toris nodded stiffly, staring in open fear of the huge beast and Ivan.

He approached Iain with the cloth and began to wipe at the scales. He made circle motions with the damp cloth, cleaning the flaking dry blackened blood away. The fact that the blood had blackened so much meant he had been asleep for a couple of days at least.

The actual motion of the cloth was soothing after the hard, cold, ruthless steel chains, though he remained tense and on guard. He wondered momentarily if his scales were hardened like steel again.

The thought disappeared, replaced by a sudden subdued purr.

The soft cloth was massaging just behind his sensitive ears. The action just felt so good that his whole body jus went lax.

Toris stopped in surprise. He looked up to his master.

"Don't worry. Dragons each have a couple of highly sensitive areas. This one must be behind his ears. Interesting… I wonder where else? Continue."

Toris continued. He felt more at ease when the dragon's body was slack and his eyes half-lidded. The dragon purred louder when he wiped at the base of the wings, where they joined his body.

Another sensitive area, Ivan noted.

They were the only places that made the dragon react.

"So your ears and wing bases are your sensitive area, da?" Ivan ran his fingers behind the ears and he felt the creature shiver beneath him. The purrs were loud now and rippled through his body, despite the chains clamping his mouth close and stilling every twitch that his body could make.

The scales warmed slightly under his light touch. The dragon's entire body was limp as if he was at peace under the blissful touch. This could be helpful, he thought.

Once the blood was gone, the rubbing and cleaning stopped though.

The pleasure faded and soon he was glaring at the Russian again.

The brunette hurried out of the door before anymore instructions could be given.

A few minutes later another man appeared though he was a lot younger. Probably only 14.

"I-I-Ivan… W-w-we are h-h-here…" He mumbled while shaking uncontrollably. The Russian beamed.

"Good." He turned to the boy. "First we shall need a collar for our 'pet' if he is to be accepted."

He nodded as if agreeing but it was more of a quiver. The two left and he was left alone again, glaring into the darkness of the empty room.

**(A/N – Ah, it continues. And continues. And continues. Some one-shot. Oh well.**

**Not an amazing important chapter but try to remember it. **

**The next chapter has the appearance of a 'awesome' character and his younger mature brother. **

**Should give you a hint to who they are right?**

**REVIEW.)**


	84. Story 14 Chapter 24

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter twenty three**

Light suddenly crashed onto him.

He blinked his eyes open, adjusting to the bright light. He had fallen asleep again. He looked around him and realised he was being moved.

The floor he had been chained to had turned out to be a movable platform. Half a dozen men were carrying him out of the caravan and onto a street.

The air had hundreds of conflicting scents and noises. The whole place smelt stale though, like there was poor ventilation. He looked up at the sky and gasped silently.

There was no sky.

It was rock.

They were inside a mountain.

The place was light by hundreds of huge glowing yellow crystals imbedded into the ceiling. It must have been the size of a huge city.

He looked around him and realised that it was full of people exchanging things, yelling prices, demanding money, haggling and selling illegal goods at thousands of stalls, shops and stores.

People paused to stop and stare at him though.

The place slowly began quiet until it was near silent. Quiet murmurs ran through the curious, amazed crowd.

'_Is that a dragon?' _

'_I didn't know red dragons existed…' _

'_It must be worth a fortune.' _

'_It must be a hoax. Red dragons are impossible.' _

'_How much is it? I wonder if I could afford it…' _

'_I want to buy it.'_

'_Maybe we should steal it?... Just take it and run…'_

He tensed, wondering what was going to happen next. Suddenly a loud obnoxious German voice broke the quiet unrest.

"Mein gott!" He looked over to a huge door on the outside of a massive stone dome. "Holy shit! You weren't kinding, ja!"

An albino appeared, grinning and staring with bright red eyes. "It's really red!"

Iain snorted in disgust and annoyance and he laughed a strange laugh in return.

"Kesesesese~ Feisty huh?" He patted the dragon on the snout. "You shouldn't be so rude to someone as awesome as me!"

The red beast rolled his eyes but was ignored.

The albino turned around. "Hey, West! Look it's here and it's real! Do ya have one of my awesome collars ready?" An irritated blonde appeared.

"Ja, bruder." He looked at the dragon and he looked suddenly very surprised. He was holding a huge metal circle with a strange pattern on it.

"Mein gott."

"Kesesese~ Ja, I know! That's vhat I just said."

The blonde turned to Ivan. "Vhere did you find it?"

The Russian hummed and placed a finger to his smiling lips playfully. "Secret, da~"

He nodded in reply, though his blue eyes showed dislike and distrust towards the trader. He stood protectively close to the white haired man. "Gilbert, are you okay?"

"Ja, ja. I'm fine, Ludwig." The albino, apparently Gilbert, waved him off absently, preferring to examine the dragon's glistening scales. Ludwig nodded, looking relieved but keeping his eyes on Ivan.

When the annoying German had stopped prodding Iain's scales, checking that he was 'real', he turned to the trader. "So vhy are you here? You're not planning on selling him are you?"

The trader giggled. "Nyet, comrade."

"So vhy are you here? I know it is not just to visit the awesome me."

"I hear that you and your brother now owned the most prosperous arena in the Black Bazaar."

"Ja. Ve fight and shov dragons here so it is pretty popular."

"Good. I want to join in."

"Vith him?" The blonde glanced briefly at the red beast.

"Da. Of course."

"Ve only accept dragons with a collar and they aren't cheap. Plus we keep 30% of any profit he gains."

"I know."

"So fork over the money for a collar! It's 6,700 gold coins."

"4,100."

"Vhen did I say that the price was up for debate? This is a quality item vith poverful magic."

The Russian looked at him menacingly and Gilbert cringed in fear. The blonde stepped between them glaring. Ivan smiled though they was a slight chant of 'kolkolkol~' under his breath.

"Do you not remember you debt Gilbert?" The man flinched and cowered behind his younger brother.

Ludwig's eyes narrowed and he spoke with power in his voice. "I believe I paid that debt and bought back my brother a few years ago..."

There was a tense pause before the trader nodded. "Da… 5,750?" The brothers paused and glanced at each other. "May I remind you of his rare colouring? He can easily pull in twice as much as any other dragon. Even with my discount, your profit will be much greater, da?"

Finally Ludwig nodded. "5,750 is reasonable enough." He held up the strange metal ring he was holding. "This one is available for it."

The white haired man spoke up from behind his brother. "H-he vill also have to stay with the others d-down below."

"Down below?"

"J-ja. We keep the beasts below the arena in a reinforced cavern. It keeps them safe and owners don't have to vorry about them escaping or being taken. The thing vill still belong to you and you can visit or take him away at any time."

"Is that so?"

"Ja… You vill have to feed it vith your own money but the stay is free." The Russian smiled widely.

"I can agree to that."

"Awesome! All ve need to do is slip on the collar and collect our money and everything will be done."

He looked back to the dragon and noticed the intensity of its glare. Smoke swirled from its nostrils, showing that was attempting to breathe fire. He gulped slightly but ignored it. It was pinned still with unicorn chains. It was basically harmless.

"Bring it inside and ve can finish this vithout prying eyes."

He gestured to the crowd of people who were now staring with greedy eyes at the newest dragon arrival. They backed off quickly when the red creature growled.

Ivan nodded and the huge house on wheels was slowly moved into the stadium, following Gilbert, Ludwig and the dragon which was still chained down to a platform. Iain glanced behind him when he heard the door closed with a heavy thud.

They were lead down a few tunnels which had a downward gradient until they came to a medium sized room with a huge wall to wall door.

The men dropped the platform roughly and the dragon snarled through his closed lips. Ivan glared at the closest and brought out a pipe. He knocked the slave over easily.

"Careful with my cargo. It is worth more than 100 of you." The man whimpered and crawled back. Ivan raised his pipe again but was stopped by the taller German.

"Please resist from harming_ our_ slaves." He turned to the man and barked a loud command. "Back to you quarters, man! No food for the rest of the day!"

The man left in a hurry. Gilbert laughed at him as he fled.

"Kesesesese! West~ That was pretty scary! Mein got! That was funny! Kesesesese!" Ivan couldn't help but giggle as well. The dragon remained silent.

To be honest, he didn't care what happened to some random human slave. The blonde suddenly grabbed his attention by approaching him.

He held the collar up. The dragon tried to move away. The chains creaked quietly but would not break or move.

"Ve cannot not get the collar on vhen he is chained down like this."

"He is a little high spirited." The Russian giggled out. "It will be tough, da?"

"Don't vorry. West and the awesome me can do it." The blonde passed his brother the collar.

It was like a large steel hoop that would easily fit over the dragons head but easily fall off again. It was about as thick as the blonde's forearm and it had dozens of swirling symbols craved deeply into the metal.

Iain felt the Russian unclip and loosen the chains on his head and neck. Almost instantly he reared back his head. His neck was stiff and painful but he ignored it, struggling and wiggling furiously.

The slaves darted away in fear. He swung his head around, refusing to be still. He could hear the Germans yelling.

Suddenly the blonde one was holding his neck. He swung his head to the left, away from the blonde but he clung on. It was soon like a rodeo with Ludwig clinging onto the dragon while the creature tried to shake him off and get free of the rest of the chains of the same time.

He saw Gilbert holding the ring up to his head, trying to slip it on in the chaos.

Suddenly pleasure shot through his body. He gave out a single moaning purr, lowering his head slightly. He looked behind him, his head feeling hazy and saw the trader rubbing in between his wings.

The Russian pressed harder and the dragon groaned. It wasn't one of pain though. Ivan could hear the full volume of the blissful noises now that he was no longer silenced by the chains that were on his muzzle.

He pressed harder and made heavy circular motions at the left wing base.

The touch on his back felt great; very great. It filled his body with an unbearable heat and yearning. The pleasurable joy enveloped his senses and thoughts.

The dragon's head finally slumped forward submissively. The wanton moans and purrs were constant now. He seemed to be panting slightly.

Gilbert slipped the collar on the twitching beast quickly. It suddenly tightened around his neck, fitting snugly and comfortably, though Iain didn't seem to notice it at first.

When the touch was finally lifted, he felt a strange loneliness.

"Using its sensitive spot? Good idea. It's always handy to knov vhere it is."

"Da. Thank you Ludwig."

"Kesesesese~ You should be careful vith it though, it can also be a 'happy button'."

"Happy… button?"

"Ja. You know! The erogenous region, g-spot, ero-zone, the happy button! If you press it too much the dragon gets all horny and blushy and wants to fu~"

"Bruder!" The blonde was a deep shade of crimson in embarrassment.

"Vhat? The awesome me was just telling him vhat happens vhen you~"

"Bruder! You do not need to use such vulgar language. Just mentioning the erogenous zone was enough. There is no need for detail"

The albino shrugged, grinning widely.

The trader looked at his dragon. It was hard to tell if it was blushing with its red scales but it looked flushed. His eyes seemed slightly glazed over.

Ivan's eyes moved to the collar. It was impossible to remove except by the owner, which was meant to be him. He turned to the white haired man.

"How do I work the collar?" His former slave rolled his eyes and handed him a smaller but similar ring to the dragon.

"Slip it on your vrist." The hoop went past his hand easily, tightening like the dragon's collar. "You cannot control the dragon's movements, unless you are as awesome as me, but you can control their abilities." The Russian was studying the bracelet closely.

"Hmmm?"

The blonde spoke. "Vhat bruder means is that you cannot make a dragon move left or right and order it about but you can force it to be human or stop it from breathing fire or flying."

"Ah... I understand comrade. I can make him human but not control his actions."

"Ja. It vill feel your intentions but speaking helps." The trader stared at the red dragon who had regained his sense was trying to move his arms and pull the collar from his neck. His head and neck were still free.

"Become human."

The dragon's eyes widened. He withered as if he was in pain.

Iain felt shock and pain go through his body as it was forced to change. Usually when he changed it was smooth, easy and painless.

This felt wrong and terrible. There was a high, painful pressure all over his body like it was pressing in on him, shrinking and compressing him back into a human. Throbbing passed over his body like his skin was being torn away.

He resisted it but it only got worse.

Suddenly it stopped.

He was left panting and shaking. He felt raw.

Ivan raised an eyebrow at the dragon's reaction. Though the change had looked normal on the outside, the dragon was thrashing about wildly as if it was in great agony.

When it was over the body was still apart from a twitching and the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

The pale, naked man was curled into a semi-foetal position with now very loose chains draped over his body. His skin was very fair but not as pale as Gilbert's and his hair was a deep crimson mess.

His ears were pointed, proving that despite his appearance, he was still a beast. His eyes were closed, though it was clear that the man was still completely conscious. The collar had shrunk to fit with the new, thinner human neck.

"Damn! He's pretty hot as a human."

"Bruder…"

"Most dragons are beautiful as humans anyway, da."

"Ja. I vouldn't mind fucking this one though."

"Bruder! Ve run a business vhere our clients trust us with highly valuable possessions! Show some boundaries." The albino waved him off.

"I vas just saying."

"Get some clothes on him and put him in vith the others."

"Ja, ja, ja…."

**(A/N – Yay! Prussia and Germany! They can from the same kingdom as Scotland and England (the North one) but both come from the Germany region. (Sorry – the world isn't able to handle such an awesome region as a Prussia one) The king of the Northern kingdom (Germania) also comes from the Germany region but in this AU they are not related.**

**Prussia was once in the same position as the Baltic trio – an underpaid slave to Ivan, trying to pay off a huge debt. Luckily he had an amazing younger brother who worked very hard to buy his brother back. Now the two live happily together in the Black Bazaar. Though their business is shady and somewhat cruel to dragons – it's their only way to make a living. They are very successful now.**

**Though, they seem wicked in this story, that's just how this world works. Slaves are treated like dirt and property in real life. (Though I disagree completely with slavery. People shouldn't be forced into labour.)**

**The ending was slightly erotic – I know. X is on my back (not an euphemism!) trying to get me to write a smutty story and I am a tad tempted but I want this story to mainly be a T. If I do get over my major embarrassment and write something – it will be posted in a different story.**

**Just so you know, the poll about your favourite story will stay open until story 8 and 15 are finished.**

**REVIEW AND VOTE PLEASE!)**


	85. Story 14 Chapter 25

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter twenty four**

Iain was trying to banish the horrible tingling throughout his body. His skin felt too sensitive and he was queasy from being squeezed and squeezed until he was the shape of a human.

They dressed him very quickly and within five minutes of being forced into his current form, he was tossed into another huge room. It had very dim light.

The massive door slammed shut behind him.

His sense came back to him and he turned on the door.

He pushed at it, pulled at it, slammed his fists into it and kicked his feet into it as hard as he could.

He threw his weight at the door.

It was pointless though.

The huge door was about 5 times his height and was impossible to move in his human form. He tried changing into a dragon again but every time he tried it felt like his body protested painfully. He snarled and placed his arms on the door, willing them to budget the door, even just slightly.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you!"

He spun around to see a girl standing there. She was medium height with creamy skin. Her hair was the colour of chocolate, wavy and ended half way down her back.

She stared at him with open curiosity and very light blue eyes. She wore the same baggy brown cloths that he now wore.

It was obvious that she was a dragon by her pointed ears and large canine teeth.

"If you keep doing that, your collar might hurt you." He looked at her suspiciously.

"Aye?" He touched the collar on his neck. "How dee ye git it off?"

She laughed slightly. Her voice wasn't high but it wasn't low either. "If I knew how to remove them, do you think I would still have mine?"

He looked at her neck and realised that a similar metal band to his was there. She walked right up to him, staring intently at his hair.

"Is it real?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "Your hair colour. It's not magically changed. If you become a dragon, will your scales be red?"

"Aye."

She broke out into a grin. "Amazing!"

She held out her hand. "My name's Lena. You are?"

He took her hand. "Iain."

When she released his hand, she reached up and touched his hair, sniffing him slightly. "You come from the North kingdom like me…. Which region?"

"Scottish…. But I spent most of my life in tha German one."

"You still have your accent though. I come from the Norwegian region. It's just beside the Scotland one. Lukas came from there too."

"Lukas?"

"Yeah. He's around here somewhere. Most of the other dragons are asleep. You only woke me up because I was the closest."

He looked around the cave now and realised there were different lumps of sleeping figures. One or two of them were in a lizard form but the majority were human.

"Why are some in dragon form?"

Her voice became less cheerful. "It depends on your behaviour and owner. Some don't mind if you appear as a dragon down here. Only three of us can appear as lizards. Me, Roderich and Lukas."

"How many dragons are there?"

"With you, the number is now 13." Her voice turned bitter.

Iain growled slightly. "That many?..."

She nodded, sadly. She stifled a small yawn. "I'm going to go back to sleep… I'll introduce… you in the morning."

She turned and wandered back to a different part of the room. She disappeared behind one of the massive boulders.

Iain turned back to the door and glared angrily at it. He sighed huffily.

He felt tired too. He roamed the area by the door before lying against a boulder and falling into an uneasy sleep.

**(A/N – This chapter is dedicated to one of my longest friends on fanfiction - Threnna. Taadaa~**

**PS – I hope this embarrassing you.**

**When Lena asks about if his hair is actually red or not, it is to do with con-artists. Some people capture dragons then use a magic dye on their human hair to make them seem like a rarer colour – like green or blue. The charm always wears off though when they change into a dragon again.**

**People still try to con others with it though.**

**Want a list of the dragons? Here it is: Scotland, Lena, Austria, Hungary, Cuba, India, Denmark, Norway, Poland, Greece, Egypt, South Korea and Japan. Sealand is also there but he is not a proper dragon (despite what he says). He is actually just a salamander (a small, common, magical lizard that is close to fire). **

**REVIEW AND VOTE PLEASE!)**


	86. Story 14 Chapter 26

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter twenty five**

"Whoa…"

"His hair is like totally red."

"Red hair comes from the South Korea region, da-ze~!"

"Shut it, Yong Soo! Red hair comes from some regions in the North Kingdom!"

"How do you know this Densen-san?"

"That's easy of course! The Denmark region is in the North kingdom, right beside my buddy's kingdom! Right Lukas?"

"…."

"That makes 14 dragons now! Right?"

"13. You're not a dragon, Peter."

"I am so! I am a dragon! Acknowledge me!"

"Acknowledgement comes from the South Korea region, da-ze~!"

"Be quiet! Iain is still sleeping!"

"Beauty sleep is like totally important. I wouldn't know what to do if I didn't enough of it. I would probably, like, throw a fit!"

"Iain?"

"Yeah, that's what Lena told me his name was."

"What a cute name~! Do you think he has a boyfriend, Roderich?"

"I do not know, Elizabeta, but I do not think it is any of our business..."

"You… are always so… stern… Maybe you should… consider Homer?..."

"I prefer musicians to philosophers."

"I, like, like ponies!"

"Ponies originate from the Sou~"

"SHUT UP!"

"SHHH! Why can't you guys be more like Gupta, bros!"

"…."

"Gupta-san is always so quiet…"

"You can't really say anything about that Kiku."

"Did Lena say anything else about him?"

"He's from the Scotland region."

"NO WAY! That's beside Norway and Denmark!"

"Do you have to yell all the time, Magnus?"

"Of course, Lukas!"

"Guys! You are really going to wake him up! And Heracles is asleep again…"

"I haff been awake fer a while actually…."

The group turned to the red head surprised.

He was sitting up now and looking at each person in the group. There was a wide range of people from different regions and kingdoms, all wearing the same baggy brown clothes. In total there were 11 people.

"He's awake!"

"Gomen for waking you Iain-san."

He didn't see the familiar chocolate hair or blue eyes of Lena when his eyes did a quick sweep of the crowd. She was the only one he had actually properly met in this strange, new plac~… prison.

He stood up quickly, uncomfortable on the ground while surrounded by so many people. A boy with a thick lizard tail, a snake like tongue and sea green eyes came up to him.

"You must be the new guy. In case you can't tell, I'm the head dragon." The Scots dragon raised both eyebrows sceptically.

"Peter! Don't lie to him, bro!"

"You are not even, like, a dragon. You are totally a salamander."

A Polish blonde and a Cuban man argued with the child.

"Guys! Stop arguing! Iain is new here and the only person he knows is Lena. You are all making bad impressions!" A dark skin Indian girl scolded the men.

"Bad impressions originate fr~" A bouncy dark haired man stated proudly but was soon interrupted by a blonde with the same accent as Lena. Lukas probably.

"Don't finish that sentence, Yong Soo…"

"Poor dear… He is probably terrified…"

A woman with long brown hair and green eyes cooed while standing very close to another brunette. The second brunette had a stern expression on his face and a mole.

"My name is Elizabeta and this is Roderich. I bet you are looking for Lena? She told us about you this morning."

Iain remained silent.

The blonde Polish boy spoke up awkwardly. It seemed he was shy talking to strangers.

"Yeah…. Like, right before she fell asleep again. I'm Feliks FYI…."

"Hai. She did indeed inform us of a new arrival. My name is Kiku. It is an honour to meet you." A short man spoke softly before giving a small, polite bow. "Unfortunately Lena-san fell asleep and transformed in the night."

A tall man with messy blonde hair sniggered. "Yeah. She changed back in her sleep and now she doesn't have any clothes to wear when she becomes a human again."

A stone bounced off his head. The group turned. A shiny brown dragon stood angrily close by. It glared annoyed at the Danish man with blue slit eyes. It was obviously Lena by her looks.

Luka smiled slightly. "You deserved that Magnus. Lena may be nice and cheerful but she doesn't like being mocked." The blonde grumbled something while others in the group laughed.

Feliks suddenly spoke up. "Hey Lena! I totally have some spare clothes! Do you, like, want them?"

Lena nodded happily. The two disappeared for a few minutes. The blonde came back first, followed by the brunette.

"Hey Iain!" She bounced over to the group excitably. "I see you met everyone before I got to introduce you."

"Aye. I only ken some of them though."

"Oh right!"

She began pointing everyone out by name. Since she wasn't sure of whom he knew and didn't know she named them all.

"This is Lukas. I told you about him last night. Beside him is Magnus. The dark skinned man is Carlos Machado and the Indian girl is Amita. They are Roderich and Elizabeta. They used to be mates. The really quiet man is Gupta. The little boy is called Peter. He has a lizard tail and fork tongue because he's actually a salamander so he can't completely turn into a human…"

"I am a dragon!" He was ignored though.

"The Asians are Yong Soo and Kiku. That was Feliks who gave me these spare clothes. And the man is sleeping over there is Heracles. He sleeps like a human." She laughed at the thought.

"So now that's 13 dragons and a salaman~" Magnus summed up.

"DRAGON!"

"Actually soon it will only be 12 again." Kiku spoke up.

"What?"

"My master Yao is taking me away again today."

"You're leaving again, Kiku?"

"Hai."

"That Yao is always picking you up and dropping you off. He's treating you like a coat or something." The Indian complained.

"He will be here very shortly." Kiku informed the small group with a very quiet voice. "In the next 15 minutes." The group became silent.

It was broken by the other black haired Asian. "I'm going to miss groping Kiku's boobies…" The Japanese man turned a deep crimson.

"Im… Improper!"

"Plus Kiku doesn't have boobies." Lena pointed out.

"Aye." Iain agreed.

"…"

"Gupta's right! Why are we arguing about a man's breasts, bro?"

The conversation continued as such for a while.

**(A/N – This is the countries' human names - **

**Austria – Roderich**

**Hungary – Elizabeta **

**Cuba – Carlos**

**India – Amita**

**Denmark – Magnus Densen**

**Norway – Lukas**

**Poland – Feliks**

**Greece – Heracles**

**Egypt – Gupta**

**South Korea – Yong Soo**

**Japan – Kiku**

**Sealand – Peter**

**I only mention Denmark's last name because that is what Japan calls him. In Japan, you say the last name first unless you are very close friends with them.**

**I got most of these names from my memory because I was too lazy to look them up… Just tell me if I got them wrong or something and remember some of them have lots of different human names because they do not have an assigned official one yet.**

**REVIEW and tell me who your favourite crack pairing is! I'm so curious! I want to know!**

**And VOTE TOO!**

**PLEASE!)**


	87. Story 14 Chapter 27

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter twenty six**

Meanwhile, Ivan was up early in the morning, when he knew that the dragons would just be waking. He was going to check up on his pet when he bumped into one of his old 'friends' in the room with the gate to the dragon's cavern.

"Ah. Yao. How are you, comrade?" The Chinese emperor turned around quickly in surprise. He quickly frowned.

"Ivan, aru?"

"Da." He replied cheerfully, smiling slightly wider than usual.

"Why are you here? This is the dragon arena…. Are you now a gambling man or here just to see them? It is very expensive to enter."

"Nyet. I have my own dragon now." The china man stammered in shock.

"W-Wha-What?"

"A dragon."

"How?"

"I captured one."

The black haired man frowned slightly. He had to buy his dragon and it had been very, very expensive, even for him. He was here to pick it up today, he was moving back to the Chinese region to settle a political matter with the Korean region.

"How?"

"Ahh... It was guarding a certain place. I just had to follow some rumours and old legends. It took quite a while to track it down…."

"And you managed to stop it from escaping, aru?"

"It refused to leave its 'post', da. So it was quite easy." Yao frowned more.

The Chinese emperor had to buy one of the extraordinarily rare and reclusive beasts himself and he was the ruler of the East Kingdom. It was near impossible to find a free dragon. It was even harder to capture it as it usually fled and was never seen again.

"Jealous, Yao?"

"No!" He snapped annoyed at him.

"Hey, you guys! What are you doing here so early?"

They turned to see the albino come down the stairways, followed by a Spaniard and his younger brother. The German blonde held what looked like a huge metal milk carrier.

The jug came up to the waist, had two large handle and its lid had 4 hooks, each with a padlock. He placed the obviously very heavy metallic jar down with a grunt. Liquid sloshed about in it.

He wiped his brow before glancing at the two visitors. He nodded in greeting the Russian and Chinese dragon owners.

The Spaniard held out a hand to the white haired man with a smile.

"There. Your order has been delivered. I shall need the money now, amigo."

Gilbert sighed before handing over a bag of coins. The browned haired man counted it while chatting to the white haired man cheerfully. They seemed to be close friends. Suddenly he frowned slightly before smiling again.

"Ah. Gilbert. It seems you have miscounted. You are fifty silver coins short." Gilbert pouted.

"Come on! Vhat about a discount for friends? Especially the awesome ones!"

"Sorry amigo. But it is not my decision. My lovely tomato would kill me."

"You know the rule, Antonio! Bros before hos!"

"Si. But my 'ho' is my boss too." The Spaniard tried to explain. The blonde suddenly yelled over,

"Gilbert! Just pay the correct amount!"

"But West!..."

"No 'buts' Bruder! We do not need Romano on our backs!"

"But it's okay for you to be on Feliciano's back?" The German went the brightest of beetroot reds.

"A-a-ah… B-bruder… That is.. uh… highly i-inappropriate!..."

"Whatever West…" He handed over more coins grudgingly. Antonio beamed merrily.

"Gracias mi amigo!" He waved at the albino happily as he hopped back up the stairs and disappeared.

The oldest brother turned to the two 'customers'.

"You guys are early. I vas expecting Yao 'cause he here to pick up the lil' black one, Kiki or something… Vhy are you here Ivan? You only dropped him off yesterday."

"Hmmm… I want to test his strength. Can you place him in a fight, comrade?" Ludwig hesitated. His blush was having difficulty fading so his face was still a light red.

"Ja. He can replace Kiku~"

"Kiki."

"It's Kiku, bruder… He can replace Kiku in the first fight against a minotaur that we have coming in from one of the other arenas."

"Uck. Minotaurs… Just big, common slobbering bulls with arms… They don't deserve to enter the awesomeness of this place."

"Da. The beast would be killed in minutes by my dragon." Yao frowned a little at the subtle boast.

"Ve do have a chimera if you vish a more interesting fight... But the risk is greater. He may be damaged and his value reduced." The blonde suggested.

"Ja. Ve were just gonna display him in my awesome showroom today before you came." Yao cleared his throat slightly, subtly attracting everyone's attention.

"When will I get my dragon? I have a tight schedule, aru."

"Ja, of course. In fact, my friend just delivered a very important tool for dealing with dragons."

He walked up to the large metal milk cylinder, unlocked the four locks and popped the top off.

Suddenly a horrible, heavy smell filled the room. Ivan and Yao covered their noses, gagging violently, while the two brothers, who were more used to the aroma, simply wrinkled their noses in absolute disgust.

"A-Ammonia?"

"Ja. Stops the merchandise from attacking things or going to places we don't want them two. Keeps them out of trouble too."

The cap was replaced but the putrid smell still lingered heavily in the room.

"So gentleman… Let's go get your dragons."

**(A/N - You cannot have France and Prussia in the story without Spain making an appearance. The bad touch trio are just so badass and awesome.**

**Spain and the Italy brothers are business partners that deal in the trading of illegal/stolen chemicals. They share the company but it's usually Spain who makes the deliveries because he's the more cheerful and friendly one. The company is called the Carriedo Vargos Chemical Vendors or CVCV for short.**

**France, Prussia and Spain are best friends in this world too. France hasn't seen the other two in a while though. Since Prussia's dragon arena was actually opened fairly recently, France doesn't know that it belongs to his friend. **

**France does know about Spain's illegal though because he has been doing it a long time.**

**What a strange but awesome trio – A fabulously rich noble man who is a pervert, a cheerful merchant that sells illegal chemicals and a once poor albino that now runs a very successful business. **

**REVIEW AND VOTE PLEASE!)**


	88. Story 14 Chapter 28

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter twenty seven**

The dragons sat in a loose circle. Jokes and laughter were rarely common in the group due to the grim situation but with a new arrival, everyone was trying to get to know him. Iain soon found himself part of the close cluster.

Peter was currently playing with Elizabeta and Yong Soo as they were the best ones with children. There was not much to play with inside the cavern but the blonde salamander boy didn't seem to mind or notice.

The group was also currently listen to the friendly Lena jokingly complain about the price of chocolate back in her home region, while Magnus sniggered, saying that she needed to eat less sweets anyway.

He soon found Luka's icy cold glare staring right at him. He just laughed it off though. Lena laughed as well, deciding to ignore the insult.

"Gosh… I really like it when we get to talk together like this. It's like being on Cloud Eleven."

"Don't you, like totally, mean Cloud Nine."

"But if I'm two clouds more, wouldn't that be better?"

The Cuban dragon laughed loudly, breathing out a thick plume of dark grey smoke. He almost seemed like he was smoking a cigar.

"That's great, bro! I never thought of it like that!" The group nodded in agreement.

"Why do you not try twelve or thirteen clouds instead, Lena-san."

"'Cause thirteen is very bad luck." The red head pointed out.

The small black haired man nodded in vague understanding. He wasn't well versed in the Northern Kingdom's beliefs.

"Yes…. But we already… have bad luck… by being…" The Greek yawned before finishing the sentence with the last word. "…here…"

The room went silent as they remembered the horrible prison that they were trapped in. Suddenly the red head spoke.

"How dee ye escape?"

Elizabeta answered in a stage whisper. "There is no escape."

"How could I escape then?" There was a strange silence in the room. Lena cleared her throat slightly.

"I guess… The only way, in or out, is that door. But it is impossible to move it with these collars."

Subconsciously, everyone, except for Peter who lacked one, touched the thick, unmoving collar on their necks. They were uncomfortable and heavy. If a human was wearing one, they would be unable to sit up or move their head.

He stood up suddenly and started walking towards the door. "Wait! Iain! Where are you going?"

"Tae try and move tha door agen."

"That's crazy!" Amita exclaimed.

"Cannae hurt tae try." He said as he stopped to face the group that were staring at him in shock, fear and admiration.

"It can!" Elizabeta snapped. Roderich nodded solemnly.

"Yes. It is foolish to even think about trying. If we attack the door too much they respond by using the collars and punishments."

"As long as we wear these 'chains' we cannot leave, bro." The Scotsman crossed his arms.

"I'm still gonnae try."

Amita tsked loudly, muttering something in Indian that sounded similar to 'He's so stubborn.' Lena frowned slightly.

"But why?"

"'Cause I haff a very important reason." He said sharply.

General indignant went through out the group. "We all have our own reasons to escape here, Iain san." Kiku said in a strained polite voice. It was clear that he and many others felt annoyed by the last comment.

"Yeah. So what makes your reason better than ours, bro." "I didnae say that." He muttered. "I just haff a reason so I want tae leave."

"And what is this reason?" Amita asked snippily. Iain paused with his mouth slightly open, as if considering telling the truth or not.

"I hafta find me brother and protect him."

There was a slow murmur in the group. Everyone could hear what everyone else had whispered because of all of their sensitive hearing but for politeness, they pretended otherwise.

This was the first personal bit of information that they had learnt and they wanted to know more. The red head had been strangely secretive about his previous life before being captured. His previous comment was now forgotten.

Lena was the one who took it on herself to ask all the questions, the others had only whispered. "I didn't know you had a brother… Is he red too?" She tugged on her silky brown hair for effect.

"Nee. He's human and he's blonde." A gasp or two rang out.

"A human?" "How can a dragon, like, have a totally human brother?"

"Step-brother then." He muttered gruffly. He always considered the blonde as his brother so it annoyed him slightly when people seemed insistent on pointing out that they were not even the same species.

"So why do you have to protect him? I see lots of humans doing fine on their own. In fact, it's the human's fault that we ar~" Magnus was silenced by an elbow to the chest from Lukas.

The red head glanced to his side awkwardly. "Uh… Well… He just does…" Everyone gave slight nods, not daring to voice or whisper anymore questions. Lena gave a small half smile before standing.

"Um. Guys? Why don't we just give it a try. If me, Lukas and Roderich are dragons and if we all work together… we might be able to move the door… I miss Japp bars… though they were expensive."

"Japp bars were made in the Korean region…. And I miss the Korean region, especially all the inventions and tasty snacks…" There were a couple of exasperated sighs. Elizabeta smiled.

"I miss the forests and absolute freedom… Remember when we went to the beach and watched the meteor shower, darling."

"Yes…. I also miss my piano. Music was always one of my passions."

"Cigars and ice-cream, bro. That's all I need to say."

"…." Gupta looked dreamily into the distance and stroked what appeared to be an invisible vase or pot.

Heracles mumbled something about basking in the sun all day with cats and a annoying man called Sadiq.

Amita sighed happily. "I miss my home town. The ground was always a beautiful reddish brown and the air was filled with dozens of spices. Cows were sacred so I had to eat sheep…"

Peter frowned funnily. "I don't know where I come from… Is it nice outside?" Elizabeta patted his head and smoothed his hair over.

"It's okay, Peter. It is very beautiful. You will love it."

"Ye neva been oot?"

"No. My egg was mistaken for a dragon's egg and taken here. Then I hatched… They couldn't be bothered selling me so they just keep me down here." He didn't sound very sad, just accepting. It also explained his obsession with trying to be recognised as a dragon. If he was a dragon, he could leave this room sometimes.

Feliks tugged at his baggy brown shirt. "I like miss all my fabulous clothes, especially the pink ones or the glittery ones. These are just fashion disasters." Lena clapped her hands together.

"So, it's agreed! If we all work together, we might be able to leave." There were nods throughout the group as some of them stood.

Magnus threw his fist in the air excitedly. "Let's go kick some door ass!"

Suddenly a horrible stench filled the air. Almost instantly, all of the dragons started gagging at the smell.

Peter looked flustered as his nose was the same as a human's and the smell was not strong enough yet to affect him. Human voices were heard now.

"The smell drives them into a corner. If they refuse to move, it vill immobilise them or knock them out."

"Ja. It vas my awesome idea. Ve can retrieve our stock vithout any harm to us or the items."

"That is smart, aru…."

"Da…."

The two didn't actually sound that impressed but Iain could still hear the smugness in the other's voice.

"Kesesese~ Danke."

The dragons were suddenly moving quickly away from the smell. Hungary was carrying Peter to protect him from the approaching humans.

Iain glared in the direction of the odour though.

He climbed up onto one of the piles of boulders while Greece hurried past it with Egypt and Poland.

The fouls smell made him feel dizzy and disorientated but he persisted until it became too bad. He was on his knees coughing violently when the first human came into view.

They all wore strange gas masks over their noses and mouths. He watched them from above, choking on the thick ammonia. A blonde was pushing a jug of it in a cart with the lid open.

The sight of the masks gave a red head an idea. He tore off his sleeve and tied it tightly around his nose.

It made it difficult to breath but the smell did not choke his senses as much.

The fours humans were coming closer, not noticing him on the 10ft high mound as they assumed the dragons would be gone from this area.

He could recognise the Russian trader easily, due to his massive height and platinum blonde hair, beside a much shorter black haired man.

He gritted him teeth and let out a small snarl that rumbled in his chest. The humans did not hear it though.

He crouched as they approached, ignoring the wooziness from the odour, and prepared to attack.

**(A/N – One of my friends pointed out that my Scotland is 'a big meanie'…..**

**Scotland is actually very friendly, his country depends on tourism after all, but he reserves some special dislike for one or two lovely people. England, America and occasionally his other brothers and France only unless provoked.**

**Since you guys have only ever seen him react to these listed countries, I'm worried that you might think he is always a jerk or something. He's only a jerk to a couple people and mainly nice to everyone else.**

**So he is not 'a big meanie'. Unless his brothers or America is involved…. Then he is.**

**REVIEW PLEASE! Because no one did last time…. TT^TT)**


	89. Story 14 Chapter 29

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter twenty eight**

The dragons all rushed to the edge of the cavern, where they knew that it would be the last place that the sickly ammonia reached. This was a daily occurrence that happened every morning so the owners could pick them up for whatever activity they were signed to that day.

The smell touched their more basic animal instincts and they flee it by nature. Their actions were not thought of when that first nasty aroma hit their noses. Now that they had escaped the smell temporarily, they were thinking more again.

There were cries of loud protest from the dragons but moving would mean running into that smell again. They were trapped in the corner.

Suddenly Lena looked about.

"Hey guys! Where's Iain?"

Everyone in the group glanced around themselves for the red head. Lukas spoke.

"He's new here. He won't know where to go when they come to collect us."

"Oh Em Gee! He might be totally wandering around gagging like crazy!"

"He… might be passed… out…" A sleepy response from Heracles.

Lena bit her lower lip nervously, glancing in the direction of the humans.

A low growl was heard throughout the group, too low for humans to hear but loud enough for the dragons to pick up. Lena just suddenly burst into a apprehensive sprint towards the growl. Was the red going to try and attack the humans?

The ammonia crashed into her.

She slowed down to a jog, stumbling forward and chocking on the air. Her eyes watered heavily, making the world blurry. She stopped to cover her mouth and cough. She glanced just around the edge of a huge rock to catch the start of the fight.

The red head leaped from a pile of stones and crashed into maybe the tallest man Lena ever saw.

He heard the men make sounds of surprise while the man that had been knocked down, make a cry of pain.

The blonde German, who Lena recognised as the arena's owner, abandoned the cart and lunged at the red head. The Chinese man, who was use to pamper, jumped back in surprised. He had been taught how to fight as a prince but was not prepared for the sudden attack.

Iain was clawing at the Russian's chest violently.

The blonde flung a fist into the dragon at full force, yelling. The dragon barely re-coiled though but turned to face the German anyway, snarling in a terrifying manner.

It was then that Lena noticed the make-shift shirt sleeve gas mask he wore.

He pushed into the blonde's chest with his entire weight.

It was surreal watching the human. The force of the push had lifted his entire body off the ground like a light weighted rag doll. It sailed through the air and landed some 20m away. He was still moving though, proving that the aerial trip and rough landing had not killed him.

"West!"

The other owner, with white hair, jumped onto Iain. The two wrestled. Iain's dragon strength gave him the advantage though and soon the albino was crashing back.

The dragon leaped back onto Ivan, who had not moved or made a sound since the first attack. Lena briefly wondered if he was dead but suddenly a loud clank rang out, accompanied by the sounds of liquid sloshing and pouring out.

"Fuck!"

The older German had landed on the cart, knocking it over along with the huge bottle of ammonia. The clear liquid seeped into the earthy floor, evaporating and releasing its putrid smell. The intensity of the smell exploded.

The huge intensity of the stench shocked Lena's body. She stepped out of her hiding place and called out "Iain." in a weak, choking voice.

The smell was making her head spin so quickly, and the ground seemed to be coming closer to her.

Was her perception off? She couldn't tell.

The smell, it was messing with her.

She felt her legs vanish from beneath her.

A soft thump went up her arm but it didn't feel like the ground.

Her last conscious thought was looking into the bright green eyes of a man who had caught her.

**(A/N – Feel free to scold me people… I have been procrastinating so much on this and the Scotland letters… I just lost every ounce of motivation for some reason…. Sorry – this chapter is short because of this…**

**SO MOTIVATE ME PEOPLE AND REVIEW PLEASE! (Despite this crappy short chapter…))**


	90. Story 14 Chapter 30

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter twenty nine**

Iain had been surprised when Lena unexpectedly appeared and called his name. The smell must have gotten to her because she suddenly collapsed.

Luckily the red head was fast enough to catch her before she hit the ground.

Unluckily, the small Chinese man was also fast enough to finally spring into action with his sword, now that the initial shock of a sudden attack had worn off.

He jumped to the side, carrying Lena bridal style to avoid the sword. Yao just attacked again though. His small body made him swift and agile. His sword's blade was everywhere.

Iain ducked down and hooked his leg behind the dark haired man's knee.

The man flopped backwards as he was tripped up. The sword slid from his hand. The China man laid on the ground, without his sword and defenceless, staring up with obvious fear.

Iain raised a bare, dirty soled foot as in preparation to slam it into the small Asian man's rip cage.

Yao flinched, closing his eyes so he did not see the oncoming impact that could maybe end his life. He felt the foot briefly brush against his chest before it was suddenly gone, instead replaced with warm liquid that splattered on his face.

His eyes flew open to see the blond owner, holding his sword. The blade's tip was crimson. The German holding the sword had a heavily bleeding wound just above his left eye and his body looked painfully bruised from the fall.

He turned to see the red haired man with a bleeding shoulder, holding the brown haired girl gently. The sword had just barely grazed him.

"What is that man? Who is he? Why is he here with the dragons?" Yao demanded as he quickly stood, brushing the dust away, trying to regain his noble appearance. He wiped the specks of blood from his face, not sure who it belonged to.

His weapon was returned to him.

"That 'man' is Ivan's new dragon."

The Chinese man snouted in disbelief. "He cannot be a dragon, aru! He would be a red one! They don't exist because humans can't have red hair! It must be a con or another creature, aru!"

The white haired man reappeared with two weapons, a long sword and a mace, from the toppled cart. They were for emergency purposes like a dragon attacking them suddenly, though neither brother actually expected it.

He spoke this time. "Ja. It's real and it's a feisty one."

He spit pink liquid to the side, obviously a mixture of salvia and blood. "Mein gott! Bastard knocked out one of my awesome teeth." He growled. "You okay, West?"

"Ja, just a couple of scrapes and bruises."

The two owners suddenly turned to face the glaring red head. The albino grinned in excitement, while the stoic blonde's lips pulled up slightly. The brothers were happy for a fight, it appealed to their more violent disposition.

Yao, while not one to look for fights, took a fighting stance beside them.

The trader was still motionless on the ground.

The three dove at the dragon. Iain stepped back, using his superior speed to dodge the deadly, flying weapons. However, no matter how fast he was, he could not dodge all of the weaponry. The swords clipped his arms as he rotated to protect Lena and the mace slammed into his back. There was a low snap from a rip cracking.

He jumped away from the group but they continued after him. Iain growled, seeing that he couldn't win against all theses humans while wearing the magical collar and carrying Lena.

It went against his pride, though not a dragon's reclusive nature, he decided to turn and run. He carried the fainted girl, clearly faster than the humans.

"Damn it! The beast is escaping!"

"Bruder! Go after it! I will see if Ivan is still breathing or if we need to remove his bracelet from his body."

"Right!" The albino ran after the dragon.

"B-Body?..."

"Ja. He might be dead. If he is, we still need his bracelet to regain control over the dragon."

Yao instinctively touched his own bracelet that connected him to Kiku, his own dragon.

The blonde leaned over Ivan, touching his chest. He lifted his head with a blank face.

"What a lucky man…"

The short man walked over to see the damage to the 'lucky' man and blinked when he saw the Russian's chest.

It had appeared that the man had been wearing several, very thick layers of clothes, jumpers and coats which had acted similar to armour. Though the dragon had torn through the layers, by the time he had gotten to the flesh, he had been chased off. As a result, Ivan only had a dozen or so shallow nail marks, criss-crossing in bloody marks.

"He's only unconscious because of the bump to his head." Ludwig reached over for the trader's gas mask and removed it.

The ammonia then acted like smelling salts and forced the tall man back into consciousness. He coughed violently as he woke, fumbling for his gas mask. He slipped it back over his mouth and nose.

He glared around before speaking in a raspy voice.

"W-Where is m-my dragon?"

"Bruder is pursuing him as we speak. We need you to use your bracelet to control the dragon before it esca~?"

The man was already sprinting away, after the older German, leaving the blonde and black haired man behind.

He followed the footsteps, through the long corridors of the giant stadium. His long legs and speed meant that he eventually caught up to Gilbert. Gilbert was jogging with a smirk. Ivan growled irritably.

"Why are you running so slowly comrade?" He snarled. "My dragon is escaping!"

The albino slowed more, to a quick walk, laughing loudly and the trader slowed to his speed too. "Kesesesese!~ Your creature is heading towards a dead end, the centre stage of the fight ring."

The Russian broke into a childish smile.

The irony.

The cruel, humorous irony.

The dragon had wanted to escape so badly but in the end he was heading towards the place where Ivan wanted him to be.

Now his rare, ruby coloured dragon was going to fight like he wished.

He giggled slightly.

Yes, he was a very lucky man.

**(A/N – Oh my god! I love you guys. I said I was in a slump and no longer motivated and you know what you guys did? YOU REVIEWED AND HELPED ME! You guys are so awesome. *Wipes away a tear* Thank you so, so much.**

**Because of this, I was suddenly supper pumped and managed to finish this chapter in one night. It's a bit longer that the other one at least.**

**REVIEW PLEASE! I mean looked what happened last time so many reviewed. I wrote this chapter so quickly. **

**God – I'm so happy. ^.^ Thank you once again.)**


	91. Story 14 Chapter 31

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter thirty**

"Damn it!"

Iain had no idea where he was going.

If he was following his nose, he would be out of here in minutes. He still had his sleeve tied over his lips and nose though.

He was jogging down a long curving hallway when a light appeared.

It was the end of the tunnel.

He ran out into the open space and looked around for the next place to go.

It was a massive circular room with thick metal criss-crossing bars forming a ceiling, making it a semi-sphere. The ground was simply soft, pale sand with dark brown patches soaked into it. There were white things protruding from the sand that were so smooth and shiny, they looked polished.

Blood and bones.

It smelt of death.

Beyond the caging, there was a wider circular room with rows of wooden benches facing the enclosure. There were nicer seats in certain sections and a box containing what looked like half a dozen thrones.

They all smelled strongly of human, sweat, food and excitement.

There was another door exactly opposite to the one he used but it was closed. It looked just as thick as the door to the dragon's cavern.

He snarled.

He had wandered into a fighting pen.

He turned to leave to see the Russian and albino German standing in his way.

The taller man smiled a childishly cruel grin before spikes of pain burst from the collar.

Iain staggered slightly.

The pain increased.

His legs buckled.

He appeared to be kneeing on two knees while clutching a limp girl to his chest. His head was dipped.

His ears twitched at the sound of footsteps in sand and his head whipped up to see Ivan standing right in front of him.

The pain continued to buzz through him non-stop. His vision blurred and became unfocused so the trader's dark outline was smudgy.

The Russian moved his hand towards the dragon's face, blocking out other sights as it came closer.

His thick accent dripped from his tongue as he spoke slowly.

"Remember drakon… You are mine and only mine… Until the end of time…"

The hand covered his eyes, blocking his sight completely as the pain amplified greatly.

He suddenly lost consciousness.

The last thing he heard was a childish giggle and a mocking 'Kesesesesese'.

**(A/N – Sorry I have been taken so long with… everything.**

**First horrible weather hit Scotland. We had heavy snow, severe flooding, dangerous ice everywhere, big storms and hurricane force winds about 90km/h in the bit I live and 170km/h on top of the Cairngorms. The record for wind force is 185km/h in 1989 so this is very serious for the Highlands at the moment. **

**We are yellow alert at the moment and it's meant to get worse again around Thursday. My house was one of the thousands that lost power in the Highlands. **

**Luckily I only lost power for one night while many others have no power yet.**

**Unfortunately I then got sick.**

**Then I got sicker.**

**Then I got hospitalised.**

**Then the hospital caught on fire.**

**I have had a very unlucky week in other wards. I have a serious chest infection but I now have my banana flavoured antibiotics and I'm being released from hospital tomorrow so I'm happy. I'm still sick so my writing will still be really slow. Sorry.**

**Also, an advance warning. Thunder snow is meant to be hitting the Highlands on Thursday. If you don't know what that is – it is a snow storm crossed over with a thunder storm. My power might go out again.**

**To make up for this, I'll give you the link of the video I made on St. Andrews day for Scotland.**

**www . youtube . com / watch?v=GKIRE0i_-cE**

**Drakon is Russian for Dragon.**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	92. Story 14 Chapter 32

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter thirty one**

Arthur grumbled loudly.

"You don't have to carry me, git…"

There was a pause.

"You can put me down now…"

Another pause.

"Put me down, you wanker!" He finally snapped.

Alfred turned his head to face the blonde on his back with a confused grin.

"But dude, you were just complaining about having sore feet a few minutes ago."

Arthur now turned to Francis who rode a large brown horse. "And why does the Frog have a fucking horse?"

"Because ze kind cart owner gave it to moi and I can afford it, tu pauper prince." He said with a boastful smirk, looking down at the prince who clung to the knight's back.

The truth was that he continually groped the man for the entire journey and to get rid of the nobleman, the cart driver gave up one of his horses.

The trio had been dropped off at the road side and pointed in the general direction of the Black Bazaar. They had been wandering for an hour, when the prince complained about being lost and having sore feet and being tricked by the cart man and anything that caught his attention.

He was suddenly surprised when the blond knight swept him off his feet and gave him a piggy-backed. He knew the knight was still badly injured though, despite resting on the cart journey.

They had been on a cart for about half a week, arguing with each other constantly.

It was morning at the moment and dew coated the world around them. The landscape was peaceful, with high rolling pink granite hills, covered in small foreign mountainous plants and strange blue-ish green grass.

The air was thinner up here and moss grew in most places because of the dampness in the elevated atmosphere.

The only break in the rocky landscape was a huge, jagged mountain that poked out of the hills menacingly.

"Whoa! What a big mountain." The American marvelled slightly.

The prince tsked. "It's a volcano, you wanker." He pointed to the top. "See, there is a crater at the top."

Francis nodded. "Oui. And someone at ze pub did mention zat ze bazaar might be inside ze hollow of a dormant volcano."

"So how do we get in?"

"Let's try the door." The knight blurted out, pointing his finger in a random direction.

"Alfred, don't be so stupid! Where would there be a do~" The prince stopped when he followed the knight's finger to a single door standing near them and the volcano.

The three men looked at it in confusion. It just stood there in an open space. It seemed like a weird statue, just a door frame, a door and a door handle. They approached it slowly and cautiously.

Francis slid from the horse's back and circled the wooden door completely, showing that it indeed went nowhere.

They all glanced at each other puzzled.

Suddenly it swung open.

The men jumped in surprise as a four horse drawn carriage suddenly squeezed out of the tiny door. It appeared impossible but the large structure really did fit through the door. The driver just ignored them as he continued his trip forward.

The door closed automatically behind him

The nobleman opened the door and looked through it with a shocked face. The knight and prince joined him moments later. All three men were staring into the centre of a hugely massive, gigantically big cave.

It was the inside of the volcano.

"Sacréd bleu…"

"Cool, dude!"

"It's a portal..."

Alfred stepped forward first with the prince on his back, followed by Francis. The air smelt vastly different inside, a lot more musty and warm compared to the cool, fresh mountain air outside.

They could not feel the actually movement through the portal. It felt like they had simply stepped through a normal door. The wooden door shut quietly behind the trio.

Now that they were in the bazaar, loud yells and shouts filled the air of sellers and buyers.

The place was probably the size of a large city, all fitted inside a volcano.

On the ceiling were hundreds of large pale yellow crystals. Each one emitted bright white light like a mini sun.

"Sun stones!" Arthur pointed out loudly so he could be heard. "I've read about them! It's like having a sun in your house and they last for hundreds of years!"

"Really!" Alfred shouted back.

"Yes!…. And can you put me down already!"

"Oh right! Sure, dude!"

The prince slid from the back and stretched slightly.

Francis, who was pulling the horse behind him, was looking around the stalls. "'ow will we find mon dragon!" He shouted to the other two over the crowd's noise.

Suddenly a woman called out, beckoning them closer so they could talk normally.

"A dragon, ye want? Ah ye come ta the right place then."

She was probably in her 60s, hunched over from old age and wrinkled like fine leather.

She sat by a large wooden box covered with a cloth. On the cloth sat several bags of pink glittery powder. A wooden sign said 'Charming Powder. 5 silver per bag.' It was illegal to make people fall in love against their will.

"You know where they keep the dragons?"

"Yes, yes. Down this street, second left, third right, first right and straight ahead is the coliseum where dragons can be seen." She smiled sweetly despite her blatant illegal business. She hummed slightly.

"They says there is a new dragon today. Yup. A new dragon. I saw the moving house with it coming down this street. Rumours are that it's red."

She snorted.

"There never been a red dragon before and there never will be. Human don't get red hair and neither do dragons. It's a hoax, a rumour, gossip fer the foolish. Lots of people believing it though. Fools are gonna try and take it, they says."

They glanced at each other uneasily. They knew a red dragon existed and if other people were trying to get to him, it would cause more problems in the future. The old woman continued, obviously a gossiper who enjoyed a good chat.

"There is a new dragon anyway, even if it's not red. They gonna fight it today too. Wanna test it fer fighting. It's very expensive to see though though. Far too expensive fer an old lady like meself ta see…. unless… someone would buy my merchandise."

She gestured to the pink dust. Francis shook his head.

"Non merci, madam." He replied quickly, steering Alfred away who looked very fascinated with the glittering pink. The charming dust seemed to be drawing him.

She tsked but remained passive otherwise.

The men huddled in a tight group away from her stall.

"Right. We now know where we are going chaps. Once we arrive, we will have to find a way in."

"Can't the French dude just pay for us?"

Francis sniffed in offense. "I am a nobleman; not ze wallet… And non - I 'ave spent ze money I 'ad on ze clothes and medicine."

"Oh." was the short reply from the blonde knight.

"Let's follow her directions then, you wankers."

The three men made their way down the various streets, squeezing through thick crowds and avoiding the illegal stalls which sold strange items like unicorn horns, mini monkeys in a jar, man eating books, dark curses, fossilised phoenix feathers and captured leprechauns.

They eventually made it to the public entrance.

It was packed with people, pushing and struggling to get in to the infamous place. It was easily the size of a palace but shaped like a rock dome. The three stared at it.

"Bloody hell… How the fuck are we meant to break into this?"

"I asked ze people but zey say there is only two entrances. Ze public one and ze private one for ze dragons and traders. It is worse than zis one apparently. Heavily guarded so no one can enter at all."

Arthur scowled at this information. "Then how do we enter with hardly any money?" He snapped, crossing his arms.

"Oi! Is that you, Francis?" The men flinched in surprise. "Kesesesese!~ It is! It is! Mein gott!"

"Gilbert?" The Frenchman looked surprised but happy.

The two embraced once they got close to each other. The nobleman took that chance to feel up the albino's ass before he was pushed away.

"Ah Francis! It's been too long!"

"Five years, mon amis!"

"Kesesese~ You should hear vhat has happened to me!"

"Maybe later, Gil... I 'ave business 'ere. We can 'ave ton beer and talk, oui?" He was ignored though.

The German continued. "I got this huge debt and vas made a slave for 2 years! It vas very unawesome. Then mein bruder got me out of it. Takes after me in the awesome gene, you know."

The nobleman's eyes widened. "A slave? Tu? Non!"

"Ja! But I'm fine now. No more debt. In fact – West and I are rich. Kesesese!~"

He laughed loudly again and Francis smiled in relief. They were best friends after all, even if they had been separated for a few years.

"Ve own this awesome dragon arena." He gestured to the dome.

The smile froze on the French man. In fact, the other two men froze as well. The albino was clueless to the sudden tension.

"Mein gott. This is so awesome! I never thought I vould see you again. I've met Toni again recently too. He is still in business with some Italians, though you knew that. West is fucking the younger one. Ah, lil Feli is so cute~."

He suddenly noticed the pale, shocked look on his friend's face and the two behind them. The group was obviously travelling together.

"Francis?"

"Ah. O-Oui?"

"You know vhat? I vill tak you and your friends on a tour around mein awesome arena! Ve have a very rare guest from a Russian trader. A red dragon! Come on! I'll take you around back."

The three followed the German, still stunned at the turn of events.

They were lucky to have such an easy way in but it was unlucky for Francis who was going to either betray the dragon or his friend.

They now entered the arena.

**(A/N – I mentioned earlier that France, Spain and Prussia were best friends here but have been separated for years. France didn't know about his friend's new arena until… just now actually.**

**I am finally out of hospital! Finally! 3 days was far too long for me! I know some people stay for much longer but gosh I was bored.**

**I couldn't use my laptop much because I got headaches and then there was that fire. It was on the floor above but smoke came down and set off the alarm on my floor. It was freaky when all the door suddenly shut, closing you in your room. You can open them with pressure. They were there to stop flames from spreading.**

**Luckily, I survived my stay in hospital.**

**Though I still have a chest infection and have to take yellow, banana flavoured antibiotics.**

**I wrote this really quickly compared to other chapters. I think it might not be as good though…**

**Review please!)**


	93. Story 14 Chapter 33

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter thirty two**

The arena's public area was split in two.

The first was a spacious floor room designed to exhibit the dragons, though currently it was crowded with rich men, traders and gamblers. It was a large crescent moon shaped room that made of part of the semi sphere structure of the dome.

It was meant to hold up to three dragons at once, though there are not always three. Evenly spread in a triangle was three enormous raised cages, designed to hold a single dragon each with little moving about room.

The dragons were fed about every 3 hours and the event was an interesting sight for the viewers.

At the moment, only one raised cage had a chocolaty brown dragon with light blue eyes. The entire mass was gathered around it, pressing as close to the high cage as they could. A fence stopped humans from getting within the reach of the cage and dragon's claws.

The brown dragon seemed disinterested and bored with the leering people, preferring to stare above the humans as if it was day dreaming.

Arthur watched the dragon intensely like the rest of the humans. He had only ever seen his brother's dragon form and was curious about any differences.

This dragon's scales seemed softer and rounder than his brother's sharp, pointed ones. Its face was slightly smaller and it's eyes wider. The claws and horns were a dusty grey rather than a harsh black but were equally as sharp and big as his brothers.

Francis was busy talking to the boastful albino. The prince didn't like Gilbert; he was loud, obnoxious and crude, not to mention he had imprisoned his brother.

Alfred was also staring at the brown dragon.

"Wow. Look, dude! It's another dragon just like your brother!"

"S-Shut up you git!" He snapped when a couple people turned towards him with interest.

They had greedy looks on their faces. If a dragon had a brother, then surely it would be a dragon too. There were disappointed to see round ear, normal teeth and non-slit eyes of a human blonde.

The white haired man had caught their interest though.

"Oi! You're the owner. How much for it?" One asked pointing at the cage.

"I'll pay double what he pays!" Another one argued.

"I'll triple it!"

"SHUT UP! That dragon belongs to the arena! You can place bids on it later and if the price is right, we will sell it."

The men grumbled and resumed to drooling at the beast. Dragons were a sign of great power and wealth and bringers of luck and more money. The ultimate prize to buy and own one...

The blonde man who had sparked the conversation was ignored by the humans, talking with the knight now instead. However he had caught someone else's attention.

Wide, blue eyes stared at the prince in recognition.

**(A/N – Short chapters are short….**

**I'm not sure if I like this chapter or the next couple. I wrote them very quickly and at the same time. It just doesn't seem as good as some of my other ones… It feels more lazy and tired… Maybe I shouldn't write late at night… It leads to bad things…**

**THANK YOU, MY REVIEWERS! I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH! *HUGS* **

**I also want to celebrate this being my 100****th**** chapter! WOOHOO! WabWab is not even a year old but look how much it has grown. *sniffs in pride* I feel like I haven't done anything for it as well. Oh well.**

**I know that as soon as I update earlier stories, this will no longer be named the 100****th**** chapter. But this is my 100****th**** chapter that I posted! Forever it shall be called the HUNDREDTH!**

**I also always wonder when I update my Russia story (Story 8) if people actually realise it and read it… It's one of my worries of updating the stories randomly….**

**Can you guys tell me if you have read the newest chapter of Story 8? Or did you miss it completely until I mentioned it right here? Feedback would be very, very, very helpful and much loved. **

**I am so curious about it! I worry about it too!**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	94. Story 14 Chapter 34

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter thirty three**

I was him!

It had to be!

The man beside him had said his brother was a dragon but he was human. Plus he was blonde like Iain said!

Lena stared down at him.

The blonde looked liked Iain as well; thick eye brows, pale skin, green eyes, similar facial features. She heard once that to blend in more, dragons sometimes adopted subtle features of surrounding beings and humans. Since the red dragon had grown up with his brother, it would make sense if they looked similar.

She had to get his attention!

She moved the closest she could in his direction in the cramp cage.

She roared out a plea to him.

However the human didn't pay attention, not understanding how dragons talked in this form.

She roared again, moving about for acknowledgment.

Iain's brother still seemed clueless to her cries for his attention, talking with the other blonde.

She tried breathing fire but her collar refused permission.

Her mesmerised audience seemed excited by her new display of actually moving.

She snarled at a human who threatened to jump the fence to go up to her raised cage and he backed off.

Lena detested the way they looked up at her and other dragons, with disgusting greed, leering lust, glaring desire, obvious covet and needy want; like they were objects and prizes rather than people.

Filth who wanted fame at the dragon's expense.

Lena was a very kind soul who rarely hated anything but these annoying, greedy humans were pushing it.

Iain's brother was still not looking in her direction!

She thrashed about, screaming loud howls at him.

Suddenly he looked up in surprise at the sudden loud noises and violent movements. He looked surprised and confused as the dragon looked directly at him with an obvious intensity. He took a step forward, still a very long way from the cage on the outside of the crowd.

The crowds were frantically clawing to get near the dragon, now that she was doing something interesting.

She tried to speak to him but it came out of roars and growls.

She hissed in irritation.

She had to speak to Iain's brother!

She had to speak human!

She gulped slightly as she mentally prepared herself for what she was going to do next…

She closed her eyes and wished herself to be…

**(A/N – Even shorter chapter is even shorter…**

**I don't know why I sometimes type things like that. It sometimes annoys me when other me or people do it but I just couldn't help myself…**

**And my friend Lena might do like me for the next chapter…. Excuse while I Lena-proof my house until I am sure that she doesn't mind it and I am safe…**

**But at the same time, she might like it?**

**Man, I'm tired! My writing does go downhill at night! Next time – I promise not to write at night! I just make crap chapters this! It feels lazy for some reason! (It's not the length… I have posted shorter chapters and liked them.) Is it just me or does this seem worse than my usual chapters? PLEASE TELL ME!**

**Also you are free to use any names and make any reference to my story as long as you credit me for the ideas. Also if you draw fan art, credit the ideas as mine… AND SHOW ME THEM! People have been saying that they have been drawing them and I really, really want to see them! I am so curious! I would love it so much!**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	95. Story 14 Chapter 35

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter thirty four**

"Human!"

"The dragon has changed into a human!"

"It is hiding its true form!"

"It's a she! It's a woman!"

"A female?"

"We wanted to see a dragon's form! Not her human form!"

"She is very beautiful though…"

"Dragons always look beautiful as humans."

"She has no clothes!"

There were cries of surprise, protest, amazement and joy as the brown body of a powerful dragon melt away like snow into one of a pretty human female.

She covered herself with her arms and hands and growled angrily at the surrounding humans who were staring at her.

Arthur had seen her change form and looked away in embarrassment. Gentlemen did not look at nude women, it was rude.

Suddenly a familiar name reached his ears over the loud crowd.

"IAIN!"

His head snapped up surprised. The dragon had spoken. Her voice boomed over the crowd again.

"IAIN! I know Iain!"

She shouted at the top of her lungs desperately.

Arthur's eyes widened and he charged forward, leaving the confused knight behind. The nobleman was too busy half listening to his friend brag and brag and brag.

He forced his way through the crowd, pushing until he was at the fence. Then he jumped it and ran up to her cage. The raised cage's floor started at his chest.

The female dragon was blushing heavily, being revealed so openly despite hiding herself.

Instinctively and without thinking, Arthur removed his large jacket. It was slightly too big for him and would be huge on her. He tossed it up to her. She slipped it on in a hurry. She looked more relieved and relaxed as the big jacket acted like a dress and covered her completely.

She ducked down so she could talk to him face to face. She spoke loudly over the shocked and angry mob that was yelling insults and slurs at the prince.

"I know Iain! I know your brother!" Arthur gasped slightly.

"You know him?"

"Yes! He came here yesterday!... He has red hair and green eyes!"

"That's him! Where is he?"

"He is going to fight today! It's a punishment!"

"A punishment?"

"For escaping! It's why I'm here too! We both nearly escaped!"

"Escaping?"

"Yes! He said he needed to find you! He wanted to protect you from something! He was really stressed and worried about you! He seemed scared that you were going to be attacked!"

Arthur looked confused and vaguely upset, along with several other mixed emotions over his brother's supposed anxiousness.

"How do you kno~?"

Suddenly the girl bared her sharp teeth and snarled. The sound made him jumped but he soon realised it was not directed at him. A man behind him had also jumped the face and was reaching for Arthur.

"Back off human!" The dragon hissed angrily as the man backed away slowly in fear. She then glared around at the other wary humans who murmured annoyed amongst themselves. Many were angry with Arthur for speaking with the dragon without permission.

She turned back to him with a kind smile. The difference shocked Arthur but he couldn't blame her. These caged conditions were horrible.

"Iain told me. He was very upset after all…"

The prince blinked and smiled back weakly. He didn't know how to reply so instead he asked a question.

"What is your name?"

The brown haired girl looked astonished. Arthur's smile faltered, wondering if he had offended her. She leaned forward and laughed slightly with a wide grin.

"You're the first human to ask me that." She laughed again in glee. "My name is Lena." She paused with a grin before asking. "What is your name?"

"Arthur."

"Arthur. It is a nice name… Iain and Arthur… I hope you two meet up."

Arthur felt touched by Lena's kindness and sincerity.

"If you meet him and help him escape… Tell him Lena says Good Luck..."

Before Arthur could reply to the request, her body morphed back into a dragon's.

The jacket was ripped in the transformation. Lena smiled one last time at the prince before resuming her bored state of staring at nothing. Her way of escaping the awful events and leering humans around her.

A hand suddenly grabbed the prince's shoulder. Arthur jump and let out a small scream in surprise.

"Mein gott! You're jumpy!"

"Whoa dude! Did you jump the fence?"

He turned around to see Gilbert and Alfred. He glanced at Lena who was glaring at the albino and in an almost protective way of Arthur. The German ignored the dragon, lecturing the blonde instead.

"Hey! It is unawesome to break to rules here! No one is allowed beyond the fence except for the awesome me and West. If you veren't Francis's buddy, I would kick you out." He laughed loudly at that for some unknown reason to the prince and began leading the way away from the cage.

The blonde wondered if they saw or heard his conversation with Lena. It soon became clear that the answer was no. The German continued bragging about his dragon stadium when the other three half heartedly listened. Finally he asked.

"Where do you guys want to go next?" Arthur cleared his throat loudly for attention.

"I heard from someone that there is a fight soon. One with th red dragon?"

"Ja! Kesesese~ You guys came at an awesome time! That guy was right. There is a fight with that red dragon I mentioned earlier." He gestured for them to follow him through a guarded door.

Apparently, there was a charge to enter the displaying floor then a second charge to enter the fighting arena.

Once again, they got in for free due to Francis's closeness with the owner.

"Come on! Let's go to the VIP box seats. You guys will love it! The fight starts soon!" The albino bragged before leading them into a small room with several thrones. The men took their seats. It was the closest to the fighting section.

Arthur could see other cheaper seats and benches which were much farther away at the sides. Though the whole place was big enough to appear spherical, the truth was the room was shaped like an eye.

Only the area with the large mesh caging encasing it was actually circular.

In the middle of that caged area stood the relatively small figure of a red haired man.

**(A/N – Sorry Lena! This was the only way they could talk with each other without Arthur suddenly magically turning into a dragon himself and ruining the whole plot and history of the story!**

**I was discreet about the nudity because Lena is my friend and I respect her greatly. In fact – She's awesome.**

**Also – this a T but I only thought about that afterwards. My friend came first in my mind.**

**Sleepy writing sucks… I also use '…' more without realising it… And I think my A/N get a little less cheery as well… I wish I had some Irn Bru to re-energise myself. It has more sugar than Coke.**

**REVIEW PLEASE! And remember the questions in the last two A/Ns. It would be nice if they were answered honestly.**

**Now, excuse while I sleep. Then I will wake up tomorrow and realise how bad my writing is at midnight and not do it again or fret about it until I post the next chapters.)**


	96. Story 14 Chapter 36

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter thirty four**

It was shocking to see how small his big brother was compared to the fighting cage. It was unnerving.

His human body was weighed down by dangling thick steel chains that were wrapped around him loosely and randomly.

If he tried, he could easily slip out of them so they were not there for confinement but rather for show. Shackles to entertain the masses and lead them to believe that the man was actually a monster.

The only real thing that seemed to be to restrain him was a heavy looking collar with nothing attached to it. Arthur wondered briefly why Iain just didn't transform and escape. He had seen his brother rips through steel and iron like it was paper.

An announcer's voice boomed out suddenly, far too loud to be a normal human. The crowd turned to see a well dressed, middle aged, dark haired man on a small stage high up on the wall of the stadium.

The man was 100m or so away from the blonde. Arthur could barely spot a strange bottle of a deep purple liquid, probably a magic potion for amplifying his voice.

"**LADIES AND GENTLE FOLK!~" **

The entire stadium was staring at the man except for two people; Iain who was staring at the ground and Arthur who was staring at Iain.

"**TODAY WE HAVE A NEW SPECIAL EDITION FOR TODAY'S SHOW! A EXTREMELY RARE RED DRAGON; CONSIDERED TO BE NON-EXISTANT UNTIL NOW!~"**

The mass went wild, screaming and cheering.

"**AND FOR ITS FIRST FIGHT, WE THOUGHT HIS OPPONENT SHOULD BE SPECIAL TOO!~"**

The prince raised an eyebrow at the 'its'. His brother was considered an 'it'?

"**THIS CRIMSON BEAST WILL FACE THE EXOTIC AND FOREVER ENTERTAINING CHIMERA!~"**

The arena's audience oohed and gasped and cheered and clapped.

The blonde cried out. "A chimera?"

"Ja but it's a one-sided fight and everyone knows it. Dragons are Royalty vhile Chimeras are just Middle-classed. It vas going to be a Minotaur but they are just Working Class; only good for heavy labour or being ripped apart for entertainment."

The prince frowned.

"**NOW LET'S GIVE A CHEER FOR THE CHIMERA!~"**

The large door across Iain and suddenly a massive creature leapt from it wildly.

It growled and snarled in a horrible, feral way, tossing its lions head around while the snake's head was biting at thin air and the goat leg's stamped randomly. It had obviously been driven mad by its capture and whatever torture it had experienced during the time.

Arthur noticed the red head glance up at the Chimera before turning his head to look behind him.

A box, similar to the VIP in which the Prince sat, was just above the dragon's door.

Arthur's eyes widened as he spotted the trader. He nudged Francis in the air, a little harder than needed, and pointed out the Russian. The two had soon informed Alfred as well of Ivan's location.

It seemed the box was reserved for the owners of the competing creatures.

There was a similar box over the Chimera's door but it was empty. He supposed the owner didn't need to bother with being here if he was simply sending off some merchandise to be slaughtered.

The deranged animal suddenly seemed to notice there was someone else in the area as its pale orange eyes focused on the red head in chains. It growled, low and dangerous, as it eyed its prey.

Iain was facing it now, glaring though his anger wasn't directed at the creature.

"**LET THE BATTLE BEGIN~!" **

The announcer screamed in excitement and the crowd joined in.

Arthur caught Ivan touching something on his wrist, murmuring but was distracted by a yell that surpassed the volume of the mass of humans.

Iain was bellowing in agony. The screamed morphed into a strangled gurgle before a raging roar as Iain's body exploded forcefully into a dragon. The clothes and chains burst from the sudden, rapid expansion of his body.

It didn't look like his normal transformation; it looked painful and agonising.

His brother was left panting as a giant red liquid, still wearing the collar, while the other chains were destroyed.

Iain turned his head to the trader and bared his teeth in rage.

The chimera, too crazed to be fazed by the dragon's transformation, pouched at the back of the distracted dragon's turned head.

Francis screamed a warning while Arthur gasped.

**(A/N – School has restarted. Not much to say.**

**Dragon transformations are usually very easy and natural, like snow melting gently but quickly. However when it is forced, it is as painful as fuck. Turning into human is like being crushed in a vice, turning into a dragon is like exploding. Not very nice.**

**Another cliff-hanger ending. And this chapter was fairly short.**

**REVIEW THIS PLEASE! IT HELPS!)**


	97. Story 14 Chapter 37

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter thirty six**

Dragons are truly amazing.

They are one of the strongest beasts on earth, though some humans may capture or kill one occasionally. They had large powerful bodies with near unbreakable scales; they could fly, breath fire and possessed magical qualities; their sense of sight, smell and hearing were powerful and they had highly developed intelligence that matched a human's.

Many poets and artists depicted these great creatures in their work and they were considered Gods in history. They existed well before humans and their life span far exceeded a human's.

Dragons are truly amazing.

The fight had been quick.

Inhumanly quick.

If anyone had wanted a long, gruelling, interesting fight; they would be very disappointed.

The chimera had dove at the back of Iain's head. The red dragon's head snapped back round, his jaw open. A shower of yellow, blazing flames flowed from his mouth like an inferno river of fire. The mad chimera was flooded in the sea of hell fire.

It stumbled back blindly. The entire front of its body was burnt black, breaking away like charcoal. The smell of rotten and burning flesh and hair filled the air. Its lion head was obviously dead but the goat's legs and snake head still kicked around wildly; unable to move the deformed, crispy body by themselves.

Iain leapt on the still moving prey, swiping his claws across both remaining parts in one hit. Dark purple blood burst out of the creature, soaking the ground and spraying Iain's under belly. He recoiled slightly from the strong spicy smell that a chimera's blood had; it was often used in men's perfumes.

The crowd went unnaturally quiet, not sure what had really happened with their slower senses. Most of them had just picked up that the chimera had jumped, then there was heat then the dragon was cutting the dead beast open.

It had been a matter of seconds.

The silence was soon suddenly broken when the uneasy cheering began. Iain glared at the surrounding humans, celebrating like they had killed the chimera themselves. He could smell disappointment and fear amongst the ecstasy; showing that some humans were not happy with the fight.

'Good!' he thought bitterly.

A high pitched whistle suddenly screamed over the crowd, demanding silence from the humans and attention from the dragon.

A tall, cloaked figure stood up, towering over the normal humans. His shoulders were broad and despite being hidden, his muscles were clearly large. His head was lowered slightly and the hood hid his entire face.

The red beast tensed instinctively as the man waved at him.

The cloaked figure pushed his way forward so he was closer to the dome cage. He suddenly lifted his head so that only the dragon could see the face of the cloak man.

The result was instantaneous.

To the humans, it appeared the dragon had somehow flashed from being in the centre of the sunken pit to the dome cage's upper side. In reality he had run then jumped.

He was suddenly clawing and snarling at the metal bars with his feet hooking on to lower bars to keep him in place. Humans screamed and moved away in fear from where the dragon was. Iain reached one arm through a gap and was trying to tear at the cloaked figure that was just out of reach. He snapped his teeth and roar at the man who stood still, ignoring the fleeing humans.

Ivan who had been watching was shocked that his dragon was so fiercely trying to attack the figure. The red dragon was snarling wildly, acting like the chimera had.

The wild dragon withdrew his arm from the gap and instead placed two scaly hands on two bars and pulled, roaring at the top of his lungs the entire time. The metal groaned under the pressure as it was moved a few inches.

Gilbert suddenly shouted across to Ivan, over the wild roars and screaming humans. "Stop him! Use the collar!"

The collar around Iain's neck glowed and the dragon was replaced by a man.

The red head tumbled down. He stopped his fall when he used both hands to grab onto the thick metal bars and cling there. He dangled a 100m or so above the sandy ground of the arena.

He growled briefly at Ivan before glaring at the cloaked figure. He began to climb up towards the enlarged gap. Once there, he began to shimmy through the space. He had just gotten his torso through when Gilbert shouted at Ivan again.

The white haired man was lucky he was not close to the trader as he was getting fed up with these orders. The man turned into a dragon again.

The dragon screamed in rage and agony as his body could no longer fit in the gap. The steel bars buckled as his size expanded. Finally when he had stopped growing; it was clear that he was stuck in the gap, though it was a lot larger than before.

He wheezed slightly as they put pressure on his lungs. The dragon was trapped there, growling, snarling and roaring like a crazed beast at the hooded figure who had not moved a muscle or uttered a word the entire time.

Most of the stadium had cleared out as soon as the dragon began its escape. Arthur, Francis and Alfred were still in the VIP box with Gilbert. Ivan was still in the booth above Iain's door. They were all staring in wonder at the scene, wondering who the man was and how he had enraged the red beast so much.

Suddenly the man pulled the black hood away from his face. He was a tanned, beautiful man with dark brown curls and stubble on his chin. He had long, dark eye lashes and an exquisitely strange gold-brown eye colour. His dark appearance screamed that he came from the warmer Southern kingdom, maybe the Italian area.

He was amazingly handsome man with no flaws except for two.

The first one was despite his charming good-looks, something about him seemed dangerous; like he looked too perfect as if he was designed to lure in prey.

The second was that one of his golden brown eyes was gone and in its place was a deep black claw scratch.

It was ugly and rotten looking, festering horridly around the edges, contrasting with his gorgeous good looks. The skin under the missing eye sagged slightly, making his jaw line on the right look les defined compared to the left side.

He grinned widely at the dragon. "Ciao, my dear drago rosso."

He beamed a friendly smile and the dragon froze and became tense. Iain had become silent as soon as the man spoke.

"I assume you remember me then, amico."

**(A/N – Taadaa! Rome is finally here meaning that this story will be ending soon. Not without some epic fight though. (despite my poor fighting writing skills)**

**I love Rome – I really do. He's so funny and great. He's hilarious with Germany or Germania. He needs more love in the series. He started it after all!**

**However I did need a bad guy and Russia was already the sub-baddie. Plus I wanted a little relevance to this world. Rome and Scotland did fight in our world.**

**We won! *epic peace sign pose!* Though we did almost lose a few times… We still won!**

**I don't have anything to say other than – REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	98. Story 14 Chapter 38

**Dragons and Cross-dressers – Chapter thirty seven**

"I assume you remember me then, amigo."

Iain didn't make a sound; growl, roar or otherwise. His eyes sparked angrily, showing that his rage had not dimmed. The trapped dragon nodded slowly though.

The tanned man grinned happily. "How's your wing?"

The dragon replied by doing nothing. The man pouted at the lack of response.

"How's the prince then?"

_That_ got a response.

A deafening snarl followed by a large roar that shook the bars and the ground around the dragon. Dust and small pebbles dropped from the dome ceiling.

Arthur flinched.

To everyone in the room, the noise had sounded like it was one of anger and fury but to the Prince, it had sounded like his older brother had been crying out in pain and misery. It sounded so heart broken that it hurt.

After the echo faded, the arena was silence once again. Iain's chest was heaving slightly as it tried to suck in air while constricted by the bars.

"That doesn't sound good, drago rosso. Don't tell me you lost him or that he's dead." Iain sucked in more air, still trying to regulate his breathing. "I have been searching a long time, amigo. I will be very angry if that's the case."

The red dragon resumed his glaring. The tanned man eyed the dragon for a moment thoughtfully, trying to read the dragon's expression since he could understand the language. He sighed slightly before perking up again.

"I will find him later. On the plus side, he was not the only one I was searching for." Light danced in his one good golden eye menacingly. "I thought that a dragon with such unusual and bright colouring would be easy to find." He shrugged. "But all I heard were rumours and fairytales. I guessed you killed any witnesses, huh?"

The man dramatically threw his hands up.

"I followed dead leads for years, trying to find you and your lil' prince! I had almost given up! Then I heard a most spectacular rumour! A red dragon had been captured and dragged into this infamous arena! At first I had thought it to be another farce! Then I saw you, amigo."

The man was suddenly standing inches from Iain's snout. The dragon flinched back in surprise at the sudden, quick move. A tanned hand moved up the black gash and sagging socket, ghosting over the festering wound but never touching it.

"It still hurts..." He murmured softly. "I have been thinking about it... For a long, long time... I really want a replacement for it."

The dragon shifted back farther, still stuck but trying to escape. Fear was beginning to creep in on the rage. It seemed that he was still haunted by the traumatic memories that plagued his youth.

The man beamed happily. "That's the thing about trolls, we cannot regrow limbs or eyes, but we can take them. I need a new eye, amigo, and I decided along time ago that it would be yours."

He reached forward now, the tanned skin disappearing as the glamour faded. It was replaced by the bulky, discoloured flesh of a hideous troll's arm. The skin was knurly and so dark that it was basically black. The dirty pale yellow claws were getting closer to Iain's face.

The man was moving his hand slowly; enjoying the fear that was building in the dragon's eyes that he would soon pluck right out of its socket. The dragon was scrambling at the metal bars, trying to widen them enough to push himself back into the arena. He was baring his teeth wildly, growling dangerously as he tried to threaten or deter the troll. It was unfruitful though.

The filthy nails were close enough to graze the scales around the left eye. Though they were not sharp enough to pierce the crimson scales, they would be more than sufficient for gorging out the emerald eye. No matter how steel like you made your skin; you cannot harden your eyes.

A nail caressed the very edge of the soft eyeball before a loud scream of pain exploded forth, shaking the dome's foundation.

Blood dripped to the ground. The crimson liquid splattered against the stone floor messily. A few stones fell from the ceiling, loosened by the sound of the cry of agony.

The prince closed his eyes.

**(A/N - Ain't I cruel? I don't touch this story for months and then I give this tiny, pathetic chapter. Sorry about that.**

**I already droned on for ages in a different A/N so I have ran out of things to write.**

**Grampa Rome is being mean to poor Iain. Next chapter will be much better - an epic battle ensures! I promise! **

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	99. Story 15 Chapter 1 One shot

**Not very different at all….**

**(A/N – I have decided to do an A/N at the start as well as the end because it is a very long/short story… I basically retell the same story twice and half of it is copied and pasted to make the other half of the story. **

**I.e – I have been very lazy and you can skip parts of it. It appears very long but I only wrote half of it then doubled it and changed the names. Sorry – At least the start is good though the rest is…. lazy…)**

The three small, brown creatures scurried along the edge of the darkened hallway. The bumpy, stone wall and the occasional a dusty spider web resembled the ones found in ancient castles. The animals ignored the spider webs, crashing through them carelessly.

They paused, sniffing for safety at a corner. They could not get caught, not here, not in the open.

They soon continued again, their paws making soft pattering and scratching sounds on the hard, cold ground.

They knew where they were going.

What they did not know was that it was not safe as a pair of toxic green eyes trained on them with a dark intensity. The eyes, and the beast that they belonged to, stalked quickly and silently after the clueless animals.

A soft hiss suddenly alerted the furry mammals and they began to scatter.

However it was too late.

A flurry of red and teeth clutched up the first one instantly. It went limp and was quickly dropped.

The red monster suddenly turned on the second one, chasing it part ways down the hallway until its paws fell on it. The second animal was soon stilled too.

The red creature turned its head around, scanning and searching the hallway for the third. Its pointed ears twitched as it sniffed gently, trying to locate the third. It crept forward, its long tail hovering just off the ground as its slit eyes glared into the darkness for the final dark furred animal.

Suddenly the brown animal made a run for it.

It fled in fear and the red monster bounded after it.

It turned a corner and raced forward like the devil was on its tail, which it was.

Another corner turned.

It could see the small crack in the stone wall that lead to its home and freedom.

It was so close but so was the red fiend.

The crimson beast leaped, sailing through the air at the escaping mammal.

The paw landed on the tail as the brown thing escaped into the hole.

The small creature pulled at its tail, try to release it and finish its escape into its hole.

The red thing was tugging at its tail too, trying to pull it from the safety zone.

It was a desperate struggle to the death.

Suddenly the brown animal was in the open again!

It was snatched up quickly.

The cat had the mouse in its jaws now, dead and out of the way. He smirked victoriously and walked back to the other dead mice.

The cat had strangely red fur with dark stripes, thick eyebrows and two nicks from it left ear. His tail was long and slightly bushy and tipped with dark red. It had a blank worn, blue leather collar that was loose around its thick neck.

It was bigger than most cats and had messy fur with very large and pointed ears. Its claws and teeth were larger than normal cats too. It was what was known as a 'Heather Cat', a common Scottish wild cat.

Soon it had the three intruding vermin in his mouth and headed to the kitchen.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

He strolled confidently into the kitchen proud of his kill. That was his 'job' in the castle; to stop rats, mice and other small vermin.

He was actually very good and enjoyed hunting. It was his favourite activity and the endless supply of mice made it so he never ran out of prey.

He dropped the dead mice in his empty metal food bowl and glanced around the kitchen. His 'owner' wasn't in this room at the moment, though he would never admit that someone owned him. He was a little too proud for that.

He sniffed wiping his whiskers and cocking his head with a small yawn.

Suddenly loud, quick footsteps were heard. His human appeared, also yawning.

His human 'owner' had red fur like him and bright green eyes. Today he was wearing dark jeans, a white t-shirt and a blue zip-up hoodie.

His step brothers, especially Dallas with his loud mouth and beaming smile, always pointed out their similarities. The same colour of red messy fur and green eyes. He disagreed though, he was had dark orange stripes and his fur was shorter and all over his body.

They were very different.

Their personalities were very similar too according to the quiet and timid Merlin. Once again, he disagreed.

They were very different.

The human noticed him and crouched down to his level, holding out his hand.

The cat rushed up to his human and pressed his head into the warm hand. The red head cooed over his stroking his behind the ears and petting him gently. The cat in return purred loudly, pressing into the hands, begging for more attention.

"Aw. Mo bhòidheach Aiden. Mo smidean Aiddie." The man cooed, picking Aiden, the cat, up and holding him to his chest.

Aiden's head rested on his shoulder. The cat purred back and licked the human's cheek. _"Mo__ mór Alba."_

Yes, his human was actually a country, more specifically Scotland, though most normal humans called him Iain. It was meant to be a secret apparently which Aiden didn't understand.

Aiden didn't mind his name, it meant fiery as he was named after his coat colour, though most people shortened it to Aiddie.

This moment was also a secret for the red cat. Aiden loved humans and always cuddled into them embarrassingly for such a stoic and proud cat. He would be mortified if one of his brothers found out how soft and snugly he went when he was alone with Iain.

His human praised him for his three catches and his purring increased "Och. Look how weel ye did with yer hunting. Look at all tha wee mice ye caught. Yer a braw, wee hunter. Aye ye are, aye ye a~".

Iain was distracted when a white dove fluttered into the room.

The red cat regrettably jumped from Iain's hand to the table and Eithne sat beside him. Eithne was the only bird he would not hunt, even if he was allowed.

She twittered slightly jumping about on the table, revealing a note on her leg. His human took the note and began reading it. When he was distracted by the paper, Eithne turned to the red cat. She hopped side to side while the crimson cat cocked his head confused.

Suddenly it registered! It was a message!

His brothers were calling for a meeting!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

His brothers were calling for a meeting!

God dammit! Did they think he could just be summoned and told to leave like a lap dog?

Iain glanced at his cat, who also didn't seem very happy at the moment, and reached out a hand to pet him. He was currently rereading the small note from Eithne, written in Wale's tiny handwriting.

He sighed angrily. He would have to leave right now if he was going to drive and wanted to get there at the right time. Aiden hissed in annoyance on the table at seemingly nothing at the same time as his sigh.

The red head smiled and stroked the cat who melted at his touch.

He hoped his brothers never saw him like this. It was embarrassing for a grown man like him to suddenly become a big softie and coo over animals like a small child. It would be mortifying.

"Och, mo wee Aiddie, I'll be away in London. Yer gonnae be on yer own fer a day oor two."

He looked at the dead mice in his food bowl. He had never actually needed to feed his cat unless it had gotten itself injured in a fight with another cat or animal. Aiden had grown in the wild Highlands and was a wildcat, so fed his self quite easily. He certainly kept the hallways and rooms free of rodents.

Iain had found Aiden in a heather bush with a broken leg, scratched up and unconscious. He decided to save the red cat and expected to release him in a week but then the cat never left. He soon named it after its colour and gave it a collar.

Aiddie seemed happy here; lots of mice to hunt and eat, a warm, dry place to sleep, fairies to spoil him and Scotland to secretly coo over him.

What a lucky cat. He had such a simple life.

They were very different.

Iain sighed and began heading to the door, grabbing his car keys on the way.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Aiden was annoyed with his brothers as Eithne finished the message from Merlin.

God dammit! Did they think he could just be summoned and told to leave like a lap cat?

He had purred under Iain's touch, rubbing his head into the hand, despite his irritation.

Humans were so lucky. They had such simple, easy lives.

They were very different.

When Iain mentioned London, Aiden's large ears perked up. Eithne had mentioned London, which was where the meeting was. He looked at his owner to follow him and surprised to see empty space.

"_Ack! Eithne! Why didnae ye tell meh that Iain had left!" _

Eithne ruffled her feathers angrily. Aidan ignored her and rushed to the window.

He jumped gracefully from the window, landing on all fours with the stealth and wildness of a true cat. He trotted to the garage, squeezing under the door after Iain.

The red cat climbed into the blue car's back seat when the red head had opened the door. Iain didn't seem to mind the company of the hitchhiking cat so left the wildcat to his own devices.

Today it was a shiny Audi A3. He had found out from a fairy that his owner had charmed the metal monster to change forms.

He curled up and shuffled under the chair. From experience that was always the warmest part of the car. He closed his eyes gently when he felt the car start up. It sounded loud at first but it quietened down into a gentle purr.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Aiden was woken up by the sudden silent when the car was turned off. He scrambled to get out of the car before the door closed.

He had to be careful in any city, town or village because he counted as a wild animal if people recognised him as a Highland wildcat.

He walked in pace with Iain, idly, up to Sherlock's house.

Both of them were in no rush.

Iain opened the door and Aiden walked into a loud scene taking place on the top of England table.

Sherlock was yelling at Dallas about bringing food into the meeting. The copper coloured brown Havana Brown cat smiled carelessly with a mouse hanging by the tail from his mouth, obviously not paying attention.

Then Dallas saw the red cat enter and smiled widely, dropping the mouse thoughtlessly and tackled the much bigger cat.

"_Aiddie! Yer here!" _

"_Ger oof Dallas!" _

The dark brown cat was pushed aside but jumped back onto the crimson feline. He hissed annoyed.

Humans didn't have to cope with things like being jumped.

They were very different.

"_I dinnae ken why yer called Dallas at all! Yer nae Wise at all!" _

Sherlock jumped from the tabletop, landing beside the wrestling duo.

"_Please refrain yourselves while in my house."_ He sniffed slightly as if offended. _"I have no idea how I ended up with a brute and an idiot as my brothers." _

Aiden flicked Sherlock's folded over the right light ginger ear. _"Aye, whit ever 'Scottish Fold'. Ye haff Scottish blood in ye somewhere." _

Sherlock scowled, batting the paw away.

"_I am a British Short Hair."_ He sounded miffed.

Aiden rolled his eyes. He bet that Iain didn't have to deal with a proud, stubborn younger brother like this.

They were very different.

Dallas laughed while his nose, which ended very close to his eye, twitched.

A soft sigh distracted the group. Merlin sat on Colin's lap with his creamy tail swaying gently. His under fur colour was a dark brown so in places where his fur was thinner, it was surprisingly darker, giving him a patched look.

Since he was a Burmilla, it was strange to have markings. It gave him a vague similarity to Sherlock. He usually went unnoticed by the others though.

"_Hey Merlin." _Aiden greeted.

"_Aiddie."_ He replied politely and quietly.

A sudden large mew from the kitchen startled the group.

Tully, another Havana Brown, stomped from the kitchen complaining loudly with a heavy scowl. His human coincidently happened to be entering and shouting at the same time.

"_Dallas! Where is me dead mouse! Ye took it, didn't ye?"_

Merlin rolled his eyes and was ignored again. Sherlock hissed at him angrily.

"_Tully! Stop yelling!" _

"_Shut it Sherry!" _

He snapped as he pouched on Merlin. Merlin jumped from Wale's lap in surprise and ran to the red cat as a fully grown human man and an angry cat leaped at him.

Colin, the Welsh human, was too slow though and was knocked to the ground by Seamus, the Irish human. Dallas laughed loudly again.

"_That was Merry. Sherry is over here."_

"_And my name is Sherlock! Not 'Sherry'." _

Merlin sighed and murmured quietly_. "Merlin, not Merry…"_ Then he added in a louder voice. _"Tully, yer nae 'Peaceful' at all. Why is it tha Irish cannae name anything. Tha rest of us fit oor names." _

Ireland's cat made an annoyed hmpft, ignoring the comment.

Dallas was not 'Wise' and Tully was not 'Peaceful' so their names did not suit the Irish cats. However, neither minded this fact.

Aiden stretched, swaying his tail. Humans never have to deal with this chaos, he though absently.

They were very different.

Sherlock cleared his throat for attention. _"We are here to discuss important matters. So _try_ to pay attention." _

There were a small collection of hisses and snarls in protest of the undermining of their intelligence. They were ignored as he continued.

"_We need to discuss the recent depression. With the humans having less money, we will have less food to eat. I, myself, had a rather small bowl of kibble this morning." _

The other four stared at him with blank faces.

"_Ye git tae be kidding…" _

"_That is so stupid…" _

"_Yer oot tha windae, Sherlock…" _

"…_." _

Sherlock blinked in surprised; that was not the intended reaction. _"W-What?"_

"_Yer an eejit, wasting me time with this stupid meeting."_ Aidan snapped.

He was angry at being called so suddenly to take part in a 'important' meeting that he considered pointless. Cats only lived 10 or so years and he didn't want to spend them chasing after his younger brother like a servant.

Humans don't have things like this happen to them.

They are very different.

"_How is this 'a stupid meeting'? Food is very important. If our humans are having difficulty feeding themselves, then how will they feed us, you gits?"_

Aiden stalked up to Sherlock. _"Shut yer face, ye pampered pussy cat. Yer nothing moore than a common lazy house cat." _

Sherlock growled and the shackles on his back rised. _"How dar~"_

"_If I'm hungry, I hunt fer me food!" _

"_If I need food and Paddy has forgotten to feed me, I gah oot ta another hoose. Another human will haff food if Paddy doesnae."_ Dallas added, smiling tensely, irritated. He had spent hours clinging to his owner while they speeded along the roads on a motorbike. Though he had enjoyed it at first, it had begun raining at some point.

"_Me owner lives in a different country with a different economy. I dinnae have any trouble with food oor money!"_ Tully snapped. He had to hitch a ride with Dallas and that damn motor bike in the rain because Seamus didn't want cat hair in his newly cleaned car.

"_Meh and Colin live on a sheep farm with pet chickens. If we need food, he will just kill one."_ Merlin spoke softly, obviously a bit annoyed too. He had spent hours in a pick-up truck that reeked like sheep manure.

Aiden glared down at the small cream and ginger cat. _"Dinnae compare us tae a wee, tamed house cat like ye, who depends solely on a single human. This meeting is a waste of time fer us."_

Sherlock glared back. _"Wanker."_ He hissed out angrily.

Aiden bared his teeth and snatched the English cat's collar in his paw. _"Listen ye bairn! I gon~" _

"_Whoa! You dudes sure act like your owners!" _

The five cats turned to the door to see a tall, grinning blonde with an annoying familiar white cat with a black fuzzy mane at his feet, grinning as well.

"_Well, don't worry! The Hero cat is here!"_ Aiden growled annoyed at the new presence.

Lucky humans.

They are very different.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Iain arrived just outside England's house and had turned off the engine.

He watched the red cat wiggle out from the seat and hopped out of the car and onto the ground. He had closed the door with a thud.

He walked up to Arthur's house with Aidan at his side at a lazy pace.

Both of them were in no rush.

Iain opened the door and walked into a loud scene taking place.

Arthur was yelling at Patrick about bringing food into the meeting. The auburn haired smiled carelessly with a packet of crisps, obviously not paying attention.

Then Patrick saw the red cat enter and smiled widely, dropping the crisps thoughtlessly and tackled the older brother.

"Alba! Yer here!"

"Ger oof Paddy!"

The grinning was pushed aside but jumped back onto the crimson haired man.

"I dinnae ken why yer called Patrick at all! Yer nae a Nobleman at all!"

Arthur stamped over to the duo.

"Please refrain yourselves while in my house." He sniffed slightly as if offended. "I have no idea how I ended up with a brute and an idiot as my brothers."

Iain flicked the side of his youngest brother's head. "Aye, whit ever 'Kirkland'. Ye haff last name is Scottish so ye haff Scottish blood in ye somewhere."

Arthur scowled, batting the hand away. "I am British." He sounded miffed.

Aidan rolled his eyes. He bet that Iain didn't have to deal with a proud, stubborn younger brother like this.

They were very different.

Patrick laughed loudly.

A soft sigh distracted the group. Colin sat with his cat on his lap.

"Hey Colin." Iain greeted.

"Alba." He replied politely and quickly.

A sudden large shout from the kitchen startled the group.

Seamus, the other Irish man, stomped from the kitchen complaining loudly with a heavy scowl. His cat coincidently happened to be entering and mewing loudly at the same time.

"Patrick! Where is me crisps! Ye took them, didn't ye?"

Wales rolled his eyes and was ignored again. Arthur glared at him angrily.

"Seamus! Stop yelling!"

"Shut it Artie!" He snapped as he jumped on Colin.

Colin was knocked off the chair and to the ground by Seamus while his cat fled. Paddy laughed loudly. Patrick laughed loudly again.

"That was Colly. Artie is over here."

"And my name is Arthur! Not 'Artie'."

Colin sighed and murmured quietly. "Colin, not Colly…" Then he added in a louder voice. "Seamus, how are you meant to 'supplant' while you act so immature"

Ireland made an annoyed hmpft, ignoring the comment.

Patrick was not a 'Nobleman' and Seamus was too immature to 'succeed' the oldest so their names did not suit the Irish brothers. However, neither minded this fact.

Iain flexed, still stiff from the long car ride.

Cats never have to deal with this chaos, he though absently.

They were very different.

Arthur cleared his throat for attention. "We are here to discuss important matters. So _try_ to pay attention."

There were a small collection of angry mumbling and growls in protest of the undermining of their intelligence. They were ignored as he continued.

"We need to discuss the recent depression. With less money, I am having difficulty buying necessities like decent tea leafs."

The other four stared at him with blank faces.

"Ye git tae be kidding…"

"That is so stupid…"

"Yer oot tha windae, Arthur…"

"…."

Arthur blinked in surprised; that was not the intended reaction.

"W-What?"

"Yer an eejit, wasting me time with this stupid meeting." Iain snapped.

He was angry at being called so suddenly to take part in a 'important' meeting that he considered pointless. He didn't want to spend his free time chasing after his younger brother like a servant.

Cats don't have things like this happen to them.

They are very different.

"How is this a 'stupid meeting'? Tea is very important. It helps with digestion and calms the nerves, you gits!"

Iain stalked up to Arthur.

"Shut yer face, ye pampered gentleman. Yer nothing moore than a bairn."

The blonde glared.

"How dar~"

"If I'm short of money, I git a part time job."

"If I need money, I trade items with other houses and help people with their chores for payment." Patrick added, smiling tensely.

"Me owner lives in a different country with a different economy. I dinnae have any trouble with money." Seamus snapped.

"I live on a working farm. I can just sell sheep or meat at the butchers and I get money at farm fairs when I win." Colin spoke softly, obviously a bit annoyed too.

The red head glared down at the English man.

"Dinnae compare us tae a soft English man like ye, who cannae make money when he needs it. This meeting is a waste of time fer us."

Arthur glared back. "Wanker." He muttered angrily.

Iain bared his teeth and snatched the English man's shirt collar in a fist.

"Listen ye bairn! I gon~"

"Whoa! You dudes sure act like your cats!"

The five men turned to the door to see a white and black cat at the feet of an annoying familiar tall, grinning blonde.

"Well, don't worry! The hero is here!"

The red head growled annoyed at the new presence.

Lucky cats.

They are very different.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Alfred and Hero had decided to surprise their English friends.

Ignoring the door bell and the closed door, he invaded the room and stumbled onto an 'interesting' scene.

The two Irish brothers were cheering on Scotland who was angrily holding England's shirt collar while they were shouting at each other.

The two Irish cats were meowing on the Scottish cat who was pulling the English cat's collar while they were hissing at each other.

The two scenes mirrored each other exactly that it seemed kind of comical.

Almost at the same the two American's spoke.

"Whoa! You dudes sure act like your _humans_/cats."

The two groups turned to the intruders and the two red haired beings growled.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

"_You wanker! I didn't invite you in. Don't barge into other people's houses like that! I raised you differently!" _

"_What ever dude…" _

Sherlock's shackles rose again in annoyance. Aiden released Sherlock's collar and glared at the American cat.

"_Gah away Hero."_

"_What? No way dude! I wanna help." _

"_With whit!" _

"_I dunno. What are you guys talking about?"_ Aiden scowled, preferring not to relive the discussion of the 'silly' meeting. He changed the topic instead.

"_Whit did ye mean befoore aboot acting like oor owners?"_

"_Well, look."_ Hero pointed his paw at the humans.

Scotland was looking slightly puzzled but mainly annoyed while the blonde was pointing at the cats. Iain and Aiden's eyes emerald eyes met.

Almost instantly, the two looked away from each other.

Damn it. Why do humans have to be so cuddly? Stupid secret…

They are very different.

"_Yer crazy. Humans and cats dinnae act alike at all!" _

Hero cocked his head in confusion. "_But the humans are even discussing the same things as us."_

The red cat rolled his eyes_."Yer a bampot. Humans talk aboot human things while cats talk aboot cat things. We are very different." _

"_But look! The Irish humans are play-fighting and so are the Dallas and Tully! And Sherlock and the other Sherlock at the same!" _

Aiden glanced at North Ireland who was trying to wrap his arms around Ireland who was fighting him off.

He then turned to Dallas trying to cling onto Tully's tail while Tully fought against it.

Sherlock was busy grooming his whiskers while Arthur sorted his tie.

And Colin and Merlin were just sitting side by side watching the scene.

Aiden tsked. _"Yer just lucky."_

He turned away from Hero and walked up to the counter before bounding up onto it. He began walking towards the open window now. Sherlock noticed this sudden movement.

"_Oi! Wanker! What are you doing?"_

"_Leaving." _He replied curtly.

"_We still haven't finished the meeting! Come back!" _

The Scottish cat glanced at the chaotic scene of the squabbling cats and humans and rolled his eyes.

"_I can only handle so much 'bampot bairn'"_ He gestured to Hero who was currently making a hero pose in front of Merlin and calling him Sherlock much to his chagrin.

Before creamy cat could argue any more, Aiden had left through the window as a door slammed.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

"You wanker! I didn't invite you in. Don't barge into other people's houses like that! I raised you differently!" "

What ever dude…" Arthur glared again in annoyance.

Scotland released the blonde's shirt collar and glared at the American.

"Gah away Alfred."

"What? No way dude! I wanna help."

"With whit!"

"I dunno. What are you guys talking about?" Iain scowled, preferring not to relive the discussion of the 'silly' meeting. He changed the topic instead while crossing his arms.

"Whit did ye mean befoore aboot acting like oor cats?"

"Well, look." Alfred pointed his finger at the cats.

Aiden was looking slightly puzzled but mainly annoyed while the white cat was pointing at the humans. Iain and Aiden's eyes emerald eyes met.

Almost instantly, the two looked away from each other.

Damn it. Why do cats have to be so cuddly? Stupid secret…

They are very different.

"Yer crazy. Cats and humans dinnae act alike at all!" Alfed cocked his head in confusion.

"But the cats are even mimicking the same gestures as us." The red cat rolled his eyes.

"Yer a bampot. Cats do cat gestures while humans do human gestures. We are very different."

"But look! Those Irish cats are fighting and so are the Irelands! And Arthur and the other Arthur are the same!"

Iain glanced at Dallas trying to cling onto Tully's tail while Tully fought against it.

He then turned to North Ireland who was trying to wrap his arms around Ireland who was fighting him off.

Arthur sorted his tie while Sherlock was busy grooming his whiskers.

And Merlin and Colin were just sitting side by side watching the scene.

The red head tsked. "Yer just lucky."

He turned away from the American and walked up to the door and opened it. Arthur noticed this sudden movement.

"Oi! Wanker! What are you doing?"

"Leaving." He replied curtly.

"We still haven't finished the meeting! Come back!" The Scottish man glanced at the chaotic scene of the squabbling humans and cats and rolled his eyes.

"I can only handle so much 'bampot bairn'" He gestured to Alfred who was currently making a hero pose in front of Colin and calling him Arthur much to his chagrin.

Before the blonde could argue any more, Iain had left through the door, slamming it shut.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Aiden felt much better after he left the stuffy confines of the house. He always felt better outside; it was a natural instinct for a wild cat.

He explored the English man's back garden. It was considerably huge for something near a city. He enjoyed wandering among the new plants and bushes, clawing new trees and hunting new prey.

Speaking of new prey….

A fluttering sound came from a small shrub.

Aiden lay on his stomach and prowled closer to the shrub.

A high twittering sound came from low down.

It sounded sweet and innocent…

And tasty…

He shimmered under the leaves and branches and into the centre of the bush, silent and deadly. His let his nose and hunting instincts lead him to the prey.

From the outside, there was a suddenly low hiss from the bush followed by the shrub shaking violently as the frantic tweeting of a panicked bird rang out.

The plant suddenly stopped moving and it became silent.

Moments later a strange red cat exited a gap in the shrub. It was large but scrawny with scruffy fur.

Blood dripped from a still robin in its jaw.

It was soon gone from the scene.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Iain felt much better after he slammed the door shut and left the house.

He liked being outside; especially on mild, dry days like this.

He explored the English capital's streets, with no direction in mind. He enjoyed wandering among the cafés, shops and food stalls.

Speaking of food stalls…

An enticing aroma wafted from one that had a chocolate fountain. He might as well indulge his sweet craving while he was here.

The warm chocolate smelled sweet and sugary mixed in with the creamy marshmallows and soft strawberries.

From the view of a passerby, he was just an ordinary man buying a snack.

Though his hair seemed too red to be normal that it must be dyed, he didn't particularly stand out much. It was almost as though he was trying to blend in.

He quickly vanished into a busy crowd on the street.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Aiden sat in a middle branch of an oak tree in the city.

He didn't want to be lectured by Sherlock if he was caught eating in the garden so he searched for a new peaceful place. He eventually found a quiet side street with a tall oak on it.

After scaling the tree to a reasonable height with his meal in mouth, he sat down to enjoy his hunt.

He felt the tree shudder as a human leant against it but he ignored them. He was too busy to be concerned with the care-free humans.

They were very different.

He was chewing on the meat thoughtfully when he heard mewing laughter.

"_Ohonhonhonho~ I never expected to find tu 'ere, mon ami." _

He turned his head to the side to see a creamy Persian cat with a bushy tail on a lower branch. He smelt of expensive cat shampoo and had a rose in his collar.

"_Cheryl?" _

"_Oui." _

The long haired cat jumped up onto the same branch as Aiden with a smile.

"_Bonjour Aiden."_

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Iain leaned against an oak tree in the city.

He wanted to rest and relax while he ate so he searched for a peaceful place. He eventually found a quiet side street with a tall oak on it. He leant against it with his legs crossed.

He heard a rustle from a high branch but he ignored. It was probably just an animal like a bird or a cat.

He was too busy to be concerned with any cats or the like.

They were totally different.

He was chewing on a chocolate cover strawberry thoughtfully when he heard laughter.

"Ohonhonhonho~ I never expected to find tu 'ere, mon ami."

He turned his head to the side to see a casually dressed France with his hair tied back. He smelled of rose cologne and white lilies mixed with freshly baked bread.

"Francis?"

"Oui."

The Frenchman walked over gracefully and leant on the tree trunk beside the red head, smiling.

"Bonjour Iain."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Cheryl was just elegantly strolling down a grimy English street. Normally he would step foot on such a dull rainy island unless to visit Aiden. However he decided to follow his master in hopes of irritating Sherlock.

Instead he spotted a red tail swinging down from a branch in an oak tree. It was such a bright and unusual red that it could only belong to one cat.

He gracefully climbed the tree, being careful not to get any twigs caught in his long, silky hair. When he was close enough to see his friend, he spoke.

"_Ohonhonhonho~ I never expected to find tu 'ere, mon ami."_

He watched the red cat turn to face him with clear emerald eyes. Those beautiful green, clear eyes, only broken by a narrow black slit.

"_Cheryl?"_ He sounded surprised but pleased at his arrival. It made the French cat happy.

"_Oui."_ He jumped up to beside the wild cat.

Aiden was currently finishing off a robin. He had feathers on his paws and some blood on his face and whiskers.

He tossed the dead bird over the back of his shoulder and onto the street below. He quickly began cleaning his paws hurriedly. He licked the area around his mouth as well. Cheryl found it fascinating and exciting to watch him. It was also arousing to see that cat tongue work. He stood on the branch near him, waiting for his friend to finish.

Once Aiden deemed himself clean enough to talk he turned to the cream coloured cat.

"_I'm surprised that yer in England." _

The French cat smiled. His eyes suddenly honed onto a smear of blood at the base of his whiskers that the cat's tongue had miss.

"_Tu are ze same, Aiddie. Tu would normally be in L'Ecosse." _

Aiden scowled slightly. _"Me eejit brother called me fer a stupid meeting aboot kibble. It was a big~"_

The French cat moved closer, laying right beside the red cat so their shoulders were touching. At first the Scottish cat didn't notice, still storming about how silly his brothers were for calling him half way across a country for a meeting about cat food.

"_~ waste of me time! I cannae believe they would make meh travel all that way fer~" _

Cheryl was staring at the blood smudge, quite near to hi sensitive nose. He licked his lips slightly, imagining licking it.

"_~such a silly reason! Then tha damn bampot showed~"_

He absently thought that Aiden looked tasty today. Maybe he would have a taste.

"_~up and started havering aboot humans and cats being tha sa~" _

The red cat's rant was cut short suddenly as Cheryl licked his cheek.

It was a surprise so he was unprepared for it. He felt his face heat up slightly as the French cat continued to lick his face. Cheryl smiled as he finished the blood up. He could tell that Aiden's face was blushing a bright red under the fur.

"_Got tu~"_ He sang.

He found absolutely adorable when Aiden blushed but he only did it he was caught off guard. He grinned happily at the rare sight.

"_Tu are so cute. And tu taste so sweet.~" _

Suddenly he felt his face burn when his thick, bushy tail being wrapped up by the red head's tail. Their tails were intertwined now.

"_Got ye"_ He faced Aiden who was staring intently with those toxic green eyes into the sky blue eyes.

The red head leaned forward and licked him on the nose.

"_Eejit… Yer tha sweet one…"_ He mumbled softly into the other cat's ear with a sly smile.

The cream cat blush became heavier as the red cat leaned into the Persian slightly. Cheryl suddenly smiled more, leaning back into him.

"_Je t'aime." _

"_Tha gaol agam ort." _

Humans may be more carefree than cats but Aiden was sure that cats were better off with love.

They are very different but maybe for once, not for the worse.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Francis was just elegantly strolling down a grimy English street. Normally he would step foot on such a dull rainy island unless to visit Iain. However he decided to go anyway in hopes of irritating Arthur.

However he was distracted on the way to Arthur's house by a man with crimson hair. It was such a bright and unusual red that it could only belong to one man.

He gracefully walked up to Iain, flicking back a loose strand of silky hair that had escaped his hair band. When he was close enough to not yell, he spoke.

"Ohonhonhonho~ I never expected to find tu 'ere, mon ami."

He watched the red head turn to face him with clear emerald eyes. Those beautiful green, clear eyes surrounded by short red lashes.

"Francis?" He sounded surprised but pleased at his arrival. It made the French man happy.

"Oui." He leaned on the tree beside the Scottish man.

Iain was currently eating strawberries and marshmallows coated with melted chocolate. He had chocolate on his pale fingers and around his mouth.

He quickly began licking his fingers clean. He sucked on each digit individually until they were cleared of chocolate. It was slightly arousing for Francis to watch.

He licked his pale lips next with a short pink tongue. The French man would be lying if he didn't admit that it was an erotic sight for him. He watched the red head intently until he was finished.

Once Iain had finished cleaning the melted chocolate from his fingers and making France think dirty without realising it, he turned to his friend.

"I'm surprised that yer in England." Francis smiled. His eyes suddenly honed onto a blob of chocolate on the corner of Scotland's mouth.

"Tu are ze same, Iain. Tu would normally be in L'Ecosse."

Iain scowled slightly. "Me eejit brother called me fer a stupid meeting aboot tea. It was a big~"

The French man moved closer, standing right beside the red head so their shoulders were touching. At first the Scottish man didn't notice, still storming about how silly his brothers were for calling him half way across a country for a meeting about tea.

"~ waste of me time! I cannae believe they would make meh travel all that way fer~"

Francis was staring at the chocolate smudge so deliciously close to Iain's lips. He licked his lips slightly in response.

"~such a silly reason! Then tha damn bampot showed~"

He absently though that Iain looked tasty today. Maybe he could have a taste.

"~up and started havering aboot humans and cats being tha sa~"

Iain's rant was cut short suddenly as Francis licked the side of his mouth then placed his lips on the chocolate blob and began to suck.

It was a surprise so he was unprepared for it. He felt his face heat up slightly as the blonde sucked and licked the edge of his mouth. The French man smiled as he finished the chocolate up.

He grinned mischievously as he watched the red head turn a deep scarlet.

"Got tu~" He sang.

He found absolutely adorable when Iain blushed but he only did it he was caught off guard. He grinned happily at the rare sight.

"Tu are so cute and absolutely delectable~"

Suddenly he felt his face burn when Iain suddenly pulled their faces together and kissed him right on the lips. His sky blue eyes stared into toxic green eyes as their mouths melted together. It broke apart all too soon for Francis.

"Got ye"

The red head leaned forward and leaned his forward on the blonde's.

"Eejit… Yer tha delectable one…" He mumbled softly with a smile and closed eyes. The French blonde's blush became heavier.

Francis suddenly smiled more, closing his eyes as well.

"Je t'aime."

"Tha gaol agam ort."

Cats may be more carefree than humans but Iain was sure that humans were better off with love.

They are very different but maybe for once, not for the worse.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

It was late evening now and the sky was dark blue with the stars and moon out and bright.

Iain was finally getting back to his car to head home. The red head's hair was messier than normal and his clothes were wrinkled from being thrown on the ground. He was grinning widely though.

He watched as Aiden also appeared at car's side at the same time. Aiddie's fur stuck up in random places and the cat looked pleased with himself as well.

They glanced at each other.

The wild cat noted that his human smelled strongly of sweat, rose perfume and other unusual scents.

Iain raised an eyebrow at the red rose tucked into the cat's blue collar and the long strands of creamy fur mixed in with the red fur.

Well maybe, they are not very different at all…

**(A/N – This is cutekittenlady's one shot which she won. She requested something to do with Nekotalia (which I have never done before so was not very good) and I decided to do a comparison between the cat and human versions and how close they really are. Though they never actually notice this…. With Americat as the only exception.**

**And Scotland and Aiden at the end.**

**I was trying to find a cat which matched my image of Scotland's cat when I found this adorable brown one climbing over some heather. It looked just like him in my head. It turned out to be a wild cat as well which suited his personality. It was just luck that Aiden was a wild cat.**

**Scotland is embarrassingly soft when it comes to animals. He likes to cuddle and coo over them excessively but only when no one is there to see him. Only Wales knows this and France suspects it.**

**(Scotland) Iain – gift from god **

**(Ian is the English/ most other places version while Iain is the traditional Scottish version. Since Iain is actually a Scottish name, this is technically the correct spelling.)**

**(Wales) Colin – Anglicised version of a Gaelic name that means whelp or young pup (England gave it to him – he hates it a lot but doesn't want the hassle from England from trying to change it.)**

**(North Ireland) Patrick/Paddy – Nobleman **

**(Ireland) Seamus – one who supplants (succeeds/ replaces) **

**(England) Arthur – bear or stone (debateable because of unknown past)**

**(America) Alfred – Elf Counsel**

**(France) Francis – From France (ironically it's the English version of the name)**

**(Scotland's cat) Aiden – fiery **

**(Wales's cat) Merlin – Wise man **

**(North Ireland's cat) Dallas – Wise**

**(Ireland's cat) Tully – Peaceful**

**(England's cat) Sherlock – Famous detective – faired haired**

**(America's cat) – Hero**

**(France's cat) – Cheryl - ****beloved, dear**

**Scottish fold – when the cat's ear folds in half (it's genetic)**

**Heather Cat**** - the common wild cat in Scotland**

**Kirkland – Land of the Church (A Scottish last name shared by the brothers)**

**Also since I enjoyed describing the cats and I promised a friend, I have decided that the next story will be to do with cats. It will be completely different from this one. It will be about Wales turning England into his cat and handing him off to Scotland. Wales doesn't actually tell Scotland that it's England and England gets a new perspective on his brother when he sees how he acts when he isn't there.**

**Did you know – When you breed and domesticate an animal its ears become softer and rounder. So you can tell wild cats, dogs, foxes, ferrets etc from pet ones by their ears. The wild ones will have sharp point ears while the pets will have rounded and slightly floppy ones.**

**Gaelic translations – **

**Mo bhòidheach Aiden – My beautiful Aiden**

**Mo ****smidean Aiddie – My small Aiddie**

**Mo**** mór Alba – My big Scotland**

**Cats can understand humans but humans can't understand cats. Cats cannot read or write either. When it is **_**italics**_** – that person is speaking cat. Cats cannot speak human – they can only understand it.**

**Simple huh?**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	100. Story 16 Chapter 1

**Lucky, Unlucky 1**

The whole event started with America, though in the end the party was Ireland's.

It started when the blonde hero stated that Halloween was coming up to a World Conference and he wanted to have a party. He claimed that the party should be at his house; after all he created 'Halloween'. Unfortunately this happened shortly after wards…

"Whut?" An Irish accent boomed out from the corner of the large room. It seemed Ireland had been avoiding England at the back of the room, only to be outraged by America's claim on Halloween.

"We're having a Halloween party at my house, dude."

"No, not that! Whit did ye say before? About ye being tha one tah think up Halloween!"

"Well, it's true. 'Trick or Treat' is from my country."

"But Halloween was originally a Gaelic holiday!" The reply was a slightly puzzled stare. "It was called All Hallows Eve. Human dressed up as demons to avoid being taken by the Unseelie Court. It was the Gaelic Calendar's New Year."

The blonde was still confused to what the Irish man was talking about. "Gawd! I swear yer entire culture is just tha bastard child of everyone else's! Halloween came from Scotland and Ireland. Ye just added pranking."

"What? No way Dude! Halloween is 100% American made!"

"It's Gaelic!"

"American!"

"Gaelic!"

"American!"

"Oh, do shut up, you two." England's irritated voice cut the argument short.

Suddenly America pointed at the blonde. "England agrees with me! Right, dude?"

"Shut yer yap! England kens it's Gaelic! Right, ye bassa?"

"What? No way Dude! England 100% agrees with me!"

"He agrees with meh!"

"With me!"

"With meh!"

"Wi~"

"Are we really going to repeat this entire argument again? Right, if you want an unbiased opinion, belt up and listen here, chaps!" The blonde paused to calm himself down. He had an iPhone out and he was reading from the small screen.

"All Hallows Eve started in Scotland and Ireland hundreds and hundreds of years ago. When America was discovered and started his own, traces of the Gaelic culture was adopted into it, including 'guising' or dressing up on Halloween which came exclusively from Scotland. Years later in America, children pulled pranks on Halloween in costume or while guising. Eventually the adults agreed to treat the children if the children would not trick them, hence Trick or Treat. Then it slowly evolved into the sweet fest that it is today."

There was a pause.

"So, who's right dude?"

"Aye!"

England sighed. "Halloween was modernised in America but it does in fact come from my older brothers…"

"Aye, ye betta fuckin' believe it!"

"Seriously? You're picking his side? Totally unawesome!"

"It belongs to both of you! The roots are Gaelic though! Bloody yobs, acting so childish over a silly party."

Ireland glared at England intensely but the blonde just ignored him. America just grinned though.

"Alright then, dudes and dudettes. Since we had a totally awesome Halloween party at my house last year, Ireland will host it this year at his house! Then we can see whose is better!"

"Aye, ye betta believe that we're having the party at MEH house!"

**Slightly later that same day…**

"Alba! I need ta borrow yer house!"

"Whit?"

"I'm throwing a Halloween party fer tha world and me apartment is tae wee."

"I dinnae ken, I sure ye could fit 100 odd countries in tha wee flat if ye hang North and a few other countries oot tha windae."

"Alba!"

"Why are ye throwing tha party any way? Doesnae tha bampot usually take care of tha whole ordeal?"

"He said he made Halloween and I told him it was Gaelic so we agreed that the party would be at me house, since I'm a Gaelic country. Then I remembered that I live in a single apartment. But luckily yer Gaelic tae and haff a big house that is exactly like a haunted castle!"

"Tha's 'cause it's is a_ real_ haunted castle."

"Weel?"

Scotland sighed heavily.

"I'm tempted ta say 'I'm Pictic' and shove ye oot tha doore…"

Ireland waited for an answer.

"… I guess ye can haff tha party at meh place if ye pay fer it all, including rent fer using me place…. Plus ye hafta organise all tha shit fer it and clean everything up aftawards."

"Rent?"

"Aye."

"Deal, ye bassa! I cannae believe yer charging rent tae yer own brother though!"

"Whisky isnae free and tha last time ye had a party ar meh hoose, I found a hole in tha ceiling."

The Irish man scolded and muttered something to himself bitterly before nodding.

"Fair enuff. See ye at tha party."

**(A/N - HELLLLLOOO! I AM LOOKING FOR SURVIVORS OR PEOPLE WHO ARE STILL READING MY STORY!**

**If so please listen to the following message which I shall put in a Scottish accent to try and placate any negative feelings...**

_**Och, I really sorry fer disappearing fer aboot 4 weeks! Meh internet wasnae braw and we had tae git a new router which didnae came at first. When it did come, it wasnae working either! Fer gawd's sake! Tha internet access in tha Highlands is shite enuff withoot all this hassle aboot routers. Barry news though - it's finally fixed. **_

_**And other braw news - I didnae spend tha four weeks nae deeing anaething. So I git a couple of chapters fer ye bonnie folks who havenae fergitten aboot wee auld meh.**_

**I actually wrote the start of a couple of stories (or at least the start of them). Most of them are based on Vocaloid songs (including this one). Now comes the interesting bit! **

**ANYONE WHO CAN GUESS THE VOCALOID SONG THAT A STORY IS BASED ON WILL BE WRITTEN INTO THE STORY! (or something else if they want - I don't really mind what the prize is as long as it is possible...)**

**Also - My friend X has posted two chapters of one of my more detailed Scotland stories. He has a mini contest to see who can guess the writer (which happens to be me). I have no idea why though but this might help you win.**

**REVIEW IF YOU ARE STILL A READER!)**


	101. Story 16 Chapter 2

**Lucky, Unlucky 2**

The party officially started at 6.

Since it was up North in Scotland and it was nearing winter, it was dark when it started. Some countries arrived early, others arrived late but most showed up roughly on time.

The castle's main ball room was swamped with a multi-coloured flood of countries, all dressed in strange costumes. The scene was something similar to mob of strange other worldly creatures, a lll eating, swaying to music and playing strange games.

Ireland had decorated the hall with dark purples, blacks, shady greens and oranges. Dozens of scarily carved pumpkins dotted the room, spiders and bats hung from the high ceiling and fake webs covered items.

Of course, there was always a naturally creepy feel to Scotland's home; with its long dark corridors line with suits of armour, flickering candles, random cold breezes, rocking chandeliers. It was basically the stereotypical haunted castle with only one section being modernised for human occupation.

Of course, there was also the fact that it was actually haunted by mythical creatures that were always willing to prank and fairy away any wandering humans.

Fortunately, Ireland had asked Wales to put up a couple of spells to ward off any unfriendly beasts. Whether they would work tonight or not was another problem; Halloween was the one day of the year when the Unseelie court surpassed the Seelie court. When that happened, demons and dark fae were much more powerful and 'playful', especially when it came to 'pranking' humans.

Anyway, at the moment the party was in full spring.

America was swishing around a glowing green stick in a light brown bath robe, declaring he was the greatest Jedi, while England, Canada and Cuba watched.

Canada and Cuba had come in matching black suits and fake, giant, glowing weapons as the Men In Black. Cuba was currently glaring at the blonde Jedi, pointing the fake gun at him, while Canada kept trying to calm him.

England wore a suit of fake silver armour. He was tempted to wear a real suit but it would be too heavy to spend an entire party in.

In a corner, Spain was leaning on Romano, begging to be 'arrested'. It seemed the two had come as a police and prisoner duo, with added effects to make them appear slightly demonic and fiendish, such as pale skin and fake cuts and red contacts in their eyes.

Beside them, Italy was hopping up and down excitably with Germany at his side. The brunette had come as a chef. However he carried around a bowl of minced meat and fake blood under Prussia's orders to be scarier. Apparently he was a 'cannibal chef' but it was hard to guess by the way he acted so ditsy and cheery.

Germany was blushing slightly at Italy but it was impossible to tell under the white face paint. He was a ghost pirate with an eye patch and spotted bandana to match.

Near the food table Japan, who had worn a kimono with fox tail and ears with a white kitsune mask on the side of his head, was trying to decide what food to try first. He had come as a kitsune.

Suddenly Turkey, dressed as Aladdin with a fake monkey on his shoulder and his mask still on, appeared at his side, offering some spicy chicken kebabs. Soon a Lion Greece was there, arguing that the small Asian man would rather prefer some ginger bread cats.

When Turkey laughed at the lion costume Greece had on, he simply replied 'I like cats... They are better than 'street rats'. That costume suits you well….'

The poor fox man was now stuck in between a half-naked Turkey and a Greece with a very large mane.

A jackal Egypt just watched from a distance.

Elsewhere, a Finland dressed in a doctors costume was bobbing for an apple. Sweden stood beside him, wearing all white with dog ears and a tail. According to Finland, the intimidating tall blonde was dressed as their pet dog, Hanatamago.

Beside the punch bowl, a Viking Denmark was challenging a Soldier Ireland to a drinking contest, while a Hippy Wales and Wizard Norway with a long white beard tried to stop them. North Ireland who was in leather chaps with a cowboy hat was laughing at the scene, not paying attention to any of the strange looks he got.

A Russia dressed in a long black trench coat with various blades and a large rim hat was following a bright blue China. Lots of people had called China 'Genie' from Aladdin but he soon corrected them with an 'Aiya! I'm a jinn, aru! Not a genie!' The duo was also hiding from Belarus who had come in a Bride's dress declaring that her 'marriage' to Russia shall be completed tonight.

Hungary was taking photos of Sealand, who everyone thought was Casper though he insisted he was a terrifying ghoul. She was also taking photos of Lichtenstein who had come in a frilly black dress, pointed hat, wand and broom stick. She made a very cute and adorable little witch.

Switzerland was at her side, dressed in a sailor outfit with frills that Lichtenstein had sewn with Hungary's help, but he still had his gun and scowled at everyone who stared at him for too long.

Austria was also scowling, Switzerland had commented on how he looked more like a zombie than who he was really meant to be. He had come as Beethoven but so far very few people had actually got that right.

Suddenly Hungary was approaching France and Prussia with her frying pan out and intent to maim. Apparently she had not been happy that the two were cat-calling her because she came in a skin tight black suit with a whip and cat mask as Cat Woman.

Scotland had left them just before hand to get a drink so was not there to cat-call or receive a beating for it.

Before they had been bothering Hungary, the trio were messing around. Prussia had worn a fur-lined red cape and a plastic golden crown, declaring his self to be the most awesome king. France, who came in an expensive suit and fine jewellery with his hair tied back and fangs, was a luxurious vampire. He had been hanging onto Scotland, pretending to bite his neck playfully.

Scotland had been pretending to hiss in return before pecking the blond on the forehead and leaving to get a drink.

He wore only black clothes, including dark skinny trousers and a sleeveless, tight plain black top. In his red hair he had a band with two black cat ears and as an added joke one of the ears had one of his larger silver ear rings in it. He had drawn whiskers and a back nose on his face as well. He had come as a black cat.

Now if the party continued like this for the rest of the night, everything would have been fine.

However, the Unseelie Court and its queen had a sinister idea that involved all the countries at the party.

**(A/N - SUPER IMPORTANT MESSAGE! READ THIS!**

**I have concluded I do not like Story 14 (the baby Scotland story)'s direction at the moment. I have been thinking about it for a long, long time. I like the story line but I want to rewrite the entire thing. I think I can improve it and change some major plot points to make it more interesting. SO I WILL REMOVE IT!**

**I will repost it later though!**

**To be honest - I actually have another Scotland changing age story which I will write and post along side the first one. While the first one looks at Scotland as a very young child, this new one will look at him as a teenager (along with Prussia).**

**It kinda starts with Germany and complaining about their older brothers, wishing that they could have been the older ones because they believe they would be better. Of course, as fate would have it, a fairy hears this and grants their wish. Scotland (30) who is 7 years older than England (23) , suddenly become 7 years younger than him (16) and Prussia (26) who is 6 years older than Germany (20) suddenly becomes 6 years younger than him (14). Of course, the teen years are one of rebellion and its not long before Scotland and Prussia become very close friends and start causing chaos. Includes underaged drinking, sneaking out at night, stealing guns, driving motor bikes and other things that my friend did (and does) as a teenage guy.**

**SO DO NOT PANIC WHEN ONE STORY SUDDENLY DISAPPEARS!**

**Review please on my decision and chapter.)**


	102. Story 16 Chapter 3

**Lucky, Unlucky 3**

Scotland glanced suspiciously into the red liquid that rippled slightly in the punch bowl.

"Ireland, this isnae blood, right?"

Ireland was scowling at Norway who had broken up the drinking contest before it had even started, failing to notice that Wales had also helped him. He readjusted the fake rifle on his shoulder.

"Nee. It's mainly tomato juice and liqueur with some special spice stuff added in."

"Liqueur?" Scotland confirmed as he lifted a cup filled with the red liquid from Sealand's hands.

The small micro-nation had just poured himself a cup, unaware of the alcoholic content, but it was taken from him before he could drink it.

"Aye." Ireland nodded, ignoring Sealand's glare at his brother. Scotland sipped it to see how it tasted.

"Tastes fair enuff." He concluded. Ireland poured himself a cup.

"So where ye been, Scottie?" The red head glanced in France and Prussia's direction to find them being whacked by a Cat woman with long brown hair that was obviously Hungary.

"I was with France and Prussia but they're busy now…" Ireland raised an eyebrow at the fleeing men as they tried to escape from Hungary's wrath. "And ye?"

Ireland pointed at Denmark, just as the Wizard Norway smacked him. "Kinda funny how oor friends git smacked when we leave them…." Ireland pointed out.

"Aye…" Suddenly Scotland smirked. "Kinda funny how oor friends git smacked when we dinnae leave them."

Ireland barked out a short laughed. "How ye feeling?"

Scotland smiled impishly. "Mischievous."

"Must be tha black cat side of ye."

Scotland grinned wider, making him appear very mischievous. Ireland chuckled slightly, enjoying the naughty, playful side of his older brother. It always came out at odd times. However it wasn't very far from his dark side; so sometimes the red head would go too far with his 'games'.

"Cheers fer letting me use yer house."

"Nae problem, ye pay well."

England suddenly appeared at the punch bowl and the other two stared at him. The blonde's knight costume was very good. The fake armour clanked loudly but it was easy to move around in and very light.

He was wearing his helmet at the moment with had a royal purple plume sticking from the top, that flopped lazily to the left. The silver false metal reflected the surrounding world in a warping and twisting way. It made the blonde's hair and light green eyes seem much brighter in comparison.

He had a long plastic sword strapped to his hip. On it was an emblem of a golden lion on a scarlet circle that was the same as his armour's.

He reached for a cup to have a drink but his armoured hand was slapped away.

"I wouldnae drink that if I were ye. It's spiked."

"What?"

"It's git strong alcohol in it. Unless ye wannae embarrass yerself drunk, stick tae tha fizzy drinks." He pointed at the end of the table when there were a dozen or so 2 litre bottles of random fizzy drinks from different countries. England scowled slightly before nodding.

"I guess I can't argue with that…"

"Nope."

England smiled slightly. He was honestly a little happy that someone had stopped him from accidently drinking any alcohol, though he was surprised that it was Scotland.

England looked at Scotland's costume. It was much simpler than his, which he had rented from a special costume shop.

He wore close fitting black leather trousers and a tight cotton, black t-shirt. He wore black combat boots and a black belt with silver bars on it. They were normal clothes that the Scottish man had in his wardrobe anyway. New additions were a pair of black cat ears on a hair band, a black tail tucked into his belt and face paint.

The face paint's results were thin black whiskers and a black nose drawn on his face but on the back of his left hand was a strange symbol that stood out against the creamy white skin. England stared at it, recognising it as an inverted pentagram with strange writing around it.

Scotland noticed the stare and held it up for a better look. "Dinnae worry. I havenae make any deals tonight; it's fake."

"Oh… Wait! What do you mean by 'tonight'?"

"Ah. Ye didnae ken? Doesnae matter then. Whit's passed has passed." Scotland shrugged.

"Why are you wearing it then?" England asked curiously; ignoring Scotland's previous comments for now. He can worry about the recklessness of his oldest brother later. This was a party, he deserved some relaxation. The red heart smirked with a mischievous grin.

"I'm a magical black cat."

"I didn't know that you got magical black cats."

"Ye only git them as familiars fer witches and demons, else they're just a normal black cats."

"Hence the satanic symbol on your hand?"

"Aye."

England glanced at the fluffy black cat ears and smirked slightly. They looked unusual on his usually stoic brother. "Nice cat ears."

"Nice feather." The red head flicked the purple feather so it flopped from the left to the right.

"Well nice tai~" England was interrupted by a suddenly strange loud cackle from up above.

The entire room fell silent, looking for the source of the noise. The countries turned to the ceiling. On an ancient chandelier with dusty candles sat a woman. Her eyes were like coal with no light reflecting off them.

Scotland growled slightly under his breath at the appearance of the infamous Unseelie Queen suddenly appearing above their head. Wale's charms could not protect the party from such a powerful being.

"I gonnae need another drink if I gonnae hafta talk tae her." He muttered as he refilled his cup and drank it down quickly. He tossed the cup to the side.

Maeve looked amused as she looked down at the faces of the confused countries. Most of them seemed oblivious to her, not gifted with the Sight. She laughed at what she considered a weakness. They appeared foolish to her, unable to see the truth.

A few saw her though; an unknown tanned man who had dark pointed dog ears (Egypt), the blonde French man who always pretended that he couldn't see any fairies, Norway and the British brothers. And they were mostly glaring at her.

She smirked before jumping down from her place, and landing amongst the humans. They were confused; trying to figure out what that sound was from before. As she passed through the crowd, people shivered and instinctively moved away, despite the lack of sight. It seemed they were not completely stupid though they were still blind.

The dark queen arrived at the punch bowl with an unnaturally wide grin that showed pointed teeth like a shark's.

"I spy three yummy treats!" Her eyes moved from Ireland, to Scotland and finally stopped on England, fully examining each person in their costume. "The Gold Hoarder, the Lone Wolf and the Protected Pup all gathered here on my special night in special outfits."

England glared at the word pup but didn't speak. He was wise enough to control his tongue around a fairy queen. Ireland didn't have the same control though.

"What dee ye fucking mean by 'Gol~ Ouch!" Ireland's head snapped in Scotland's direction, who had apparently pinched him and quite hard too.

"Ye'll thank meh fer that later." The red head said before the Irish man could protest. "Now wheesht and control yerself or sod oof." Ireland bit down hard on his tongue and glared into the distance with his fists clenched. His temper was obvious but at least he wasn't acting aggressive towards the Queen, especially since her court was stronger than his at the moment.

"Oh~ Wolfy is getting all protective~ How… sweet." She licked her lips, like the men in front of her were merely treats that she fancied. It appeared to be seductive.

Scotland turned his head away with a tch but his lips twitched slightly like he was secretly enjoying the presence of such a chaotic being. However, he wasn't in the mood to be played with.

"I wonder how you would feel if I stole a taste from your brother." The red head turned his head just in time to see Maeve place her lip's on England's.

The blonde's eyes widened in shock at the sudden action. Her lips were cold like ice and burned like fire, painful but addictive in a strange way. Her body was flushed with his and he could feel its iciness, even through the fake armour. Every instinct in his body told him that this girl pressed out against was dangerous and deadly in every possible way but he was unable to move.

Suddenly the mouth were gone, as was Maeve's body as Scotland spun her into his arms instead. She giggled before leaning up and kissing the red head, slightly deeper than England. She pulled back slightly.

"Protective or jealous, Wolfy? Or should I say Kitty?" She gestured to the cat ears.

"I'm nae in tha mood fer yer games, Maeve. Ye ken that he belongs ta the Seelie court."

"You didn't answer my questions, not that it matters. I know the answers." She purred leaning closer and Scotland took a small step back. He frowned when he felt the table behind him, stopping him from retreating anymore, while Maeve cackled again.

The other countries looked around again for the source of the manic loud laughter. There were already rumours that the castle was haunted and to them it appeared to be true. A Jedi America was being to panic as he swung his light sabre around, yelling about ghosts and distracting the crowd. No one in the party noticed the brothers talk strangely.

"Anyways, Gyre Carlin can not intervene right now. It's my night."

"He still belongs ta tha Seelie court, regardless of tha night."

Maeve kissed him again, biting and sucking slightly on his bottom lip, and he hissed slightly. She made a meow noise and grinned widely again.

"Feeling Cat-ish?" She paused. "Mischievous? My, my – I guess it's just one of your naughtier moods mixed with that feline costume. Meow~"

The side of Scotland's lips twitched up into a full smile now. He couldn't really help himself, he did share a closeness with the Unseelie court that the other brothers didn't quite have. Maeve seemed pleased by his reaction.

"Any way, you know as much as I do…" She breathed into his ear, loud enough for England and Ireland to hear. "… it's more fun to 'make angels fall' than demons." The red head was stuck between smiling and frowning now. He finally settled on a glare; deciding that he didn't like his brothers being threatened like this or being called a demon. It brought up bad memories.

Ireland tightened his fist so the whites of the knuckles showed and glared wildly at Maeve, who winked at him while still clinging onto Scotland. "Angry works for me too, Goldie, if you're looking for a new court."

She turned to England. "And it's more fun to play in the dark than the light." The blonde glared back and she blew him a kiss. "You know who to call if the Seelie court ever gets too boring and you need…. some relief… We always welcome new-comers."

Ireland took a step forward, almost raising his fist but Scotland stopped him with a look. Around the party continued, not paying attention or noticing the brother's strange actions and speech.

"Maeve…" Scotland started.

"Queen Maeve." She corrected and the red head fumed silently for a moment.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be leading your court and the demons on your 'special' night?" She laughed lightly, leaning forward for another kiss. However the red head had had enough and grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away roughly.

"Nee!"

She smirked and stepped back, accepting that she wasn't getting any more kisses for now. "Well, I thought I should maybe start by following a human tradition that has perked my interest, my precious black cat." She looked over the three men again.

"What tradition has interested you?" England asked, glaring at the queen but acting polite.

"I did mention when I came here what three yummy treats you are. I was going to ask the question then but Scottie's 'mischievous bad-boyness' made me… distracted…" She smirked before practically purring out. "Trick or Treat?"

"Trick or Treat?" Scotland asked in disbelief.

"Yes but not just some old bitter sweets that humans made. I want a yummy treat." The penny dropped for the red head.

"Ah. You want one of us to spend the night with you as a 'treat' or else you are going to 'trick' us."

"Blackmail!" Ireland spat out, angrily.

"Yep and any of you can volunteer because this doesn't compromise Gyre Carlin's fealty! Isn't that lucky?" She grinned, showing off her shark teeth.

Scotland couldn't help another small smile again – he knew she was appealing to his more sadistic and impish side. Ireland and England could only glare at their opposing Queen.

"So Trick or Treat?" Maeve asked again.

Scotland stepped forward, towering over her. "Gah find yer poor sap somewhere else. There's no one here fer ye." He snarled the last bit with a sadistic grin.

Maeve placed her hand on the Scotsman's chest and pushed him back with inhuman strength. Ireland caught him before he stumbled into the table behind them.

"Appealing to your worst nature is fun, my mischievous black cat. That dark streak is very interesting. It's a pity you have morals and a conscience or else you would be in my court already."

England glanced away from Maeve and saw indeed that his brother was grinning madly despite being pushed. The blonde glared at him as well. He couldn't believe that his brother was excited and thrilled by the situation.

Maeve suddenly started clapping her hands together happily.

"I knew it was a long shot to be getting a romp tonight; it would have been such fun… But then again, I was also hoping that you would say no. If not then the 'special' spell I have been preparing would go to waste."

The three brothers suddenly looked alarmed. They had been tricked indeed. Maeve wouldn't have minded sex but the truth was she wanted the brothers to refuse her request so she could 'punish' them with a spell.

"Too late to change your mind now, boys. I hope you enjoy your 'trick'. I know I will."

She blew a kiss to them.

"See you in the morning, my angry soldier, innocent and noble knight and mischievous black cat."

She cackled and jumped up into mid air. She placed a glamour over herself, making her visible to non-sighted beings. To them, she appeared as a stereotypical witch on a broom, though that was a false image. The countries turned to her with shock.

"Hello humans. It's so nice that you decided to celebrate this holidays which allow us witches and demons to cross over from the nether world."

Scotland snorted. England gaped at the Queen as she stood and lied to the crowd below her.

"However, it is my duty to bewitch humans on this sacred day. You are lucky that I have chosen this party for my curse." Murmurs rippled through the countries; mainly of fear and confusing. America was the loudest protest.

Maeve cackled and the murmurs became louder and more urgent. She cupped her hands and sparkling golden powder poured into her open hands. She threw the powder up and it hovered, sparkling and suspended in mid air like Maeve.

"Enjoy."

The queen's body suddenly morphed into one of a large bird; a raven. She flapped her wings and flew from the room, cawing manically as she went.

The gold dust that had been frozen above the countries suddenly dropped, falling on the crowd below. As they were showered with the beautiful powder, they marvelled at the magnificence of the sight. It was like falling star light.

However seconds later, every last person in the party suddenly fell asleep.

**(A/N - Oh. Some thing is happening now!**

**Ireland, North Ireland, Wales and England are all sworn to the Seelie court. Scotland however is not tied to any court because he is too conflicted to join either.**

**It is WRONG to think the Seelie court as Good and the Unseelie court as Evil. The Seelie court is order while the Unseelie are chaos. Order does not always lead to goodness and Chaos does not always lead to evil. Though the Seelie are usually behind good acts while the Unseelie are usually behind bad acts. It's just their nature in the end.**

**Now obviously Scotland is not a very ordered or controlled person. He is a very chaotic person, getting drunk, fighting, traveling randomly. So the Seelie court feels confining to him. **

**On the other hand, the Unseelie court, though it shares a chaotic nature with Scotland, is simply too immoral. They generally are too blood thirsty and violent; killing and harming many humans, doing horrible and deplorable acts. Scotland still has a human conscience, and finds himself unable to be part of such a immoral court that kill randomly for fun.**

**Maeve likes to tease people and come up with nicknames that can irritate people. She changes the nicknames often depending on her mood and her current view of a person. She calls Ireland a Gold Hoarder because he is actually a very man who is obsessed with gold. Scotland is called a Lone Wolf because of his stubbornness and refusal to join any court and then Kitty because of his costume. England is called a Protected Pup because Maeve thinks he is the most innocent when it comes to fairies (and he is). England used to be called Lil Lamb.**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	103. Story 16 Chapter 4

**Lucky, Unlucky 4**

Arthur felt something cold and heavy pressing into his entire body as he lied down. A voice was trying to stir him from his sleep.

"England… England… England!..."

The blonde finally opened his eyes to see a similar looking blonde and an auburn haired man leaning over him. England recognised the two as his older brothers, Wales and Ireland, but something was different with them.

Wales spoke; his breath had a pungent odour to it, similar to a skunk but sweeter, spicier and much nicer. It smelt very familiar as well.

"Thank god, yer awake… The Unseelie queen seems to haff done something, like a spell or something…" The blonde sounded very vague, compared to his normal self.

England suddenly noticed that the Welsh man's hairs suddenly came down to his shoulders in light brown curls and was messier than normal.

He turned to Ireland, trying to confirm that there was something wrong with Wales with his other brother.

However, he quickly realised there was something wrong with the Irish man as well. The auburn seemed much more ordered and less angry. Plus his rifle now gleamed like real metal rather than the plastic knock-off that it really was. England guessed that it was his angle of sight playing tricks on his mind, as he was still lying down.

"Dee not worry, Sir!... I mean England…" Ireland barked out with authority before trailing off uneasily.

Now England was very confused.

"Why art thou acting so strange?"

There was a pause before the other two suddenly burst into laughter.

The blonde didn't know why he had spoken so strangely. He had only expected Ireland to laugh as well, Wales was normally so calm.

"Why art thy speaking thith way?" He demanded angrily and the other two exploded into more peals of laughter.

"Stop thou laughter, knaves!" He stormed, trying to go back to speaking in his normal modern English, rather than the English accent from hundreds of years ago.

Wales calmed down first, looking a little dizzy and hazy. "Sorry, England… It's hard concentrating when yer high…" England abruptly remembered what the scent on Wale's breath was. It was marijuana!

"Thou art high!"

"Aye. It's tha fairy spell… I havenae smoked any… honest…" He fumbled around slightly.

"A spell?" England's mind suddenly remembered Maeve and her spell on the entire party.

"Aye. It has made all tha costumes real?"

"Real?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Ireland saluted before scowling and retracting his hand.

Wales closed his eyes as if he was dozing off. He still mumbled though, showing that he was conscious for now. "Everyone in costume is now what they were dressed us… I'm a real hippy. That's why I'm a tad high…" His blue-green eyes opened again, his pupils were undiluted, bloated from the drug. "And Ireland is a real soldier…"

Ireland saluted at being mentioned. He also added in. "And yer a real knight in real metal armour!"

"Try sitting up now. Careful, it'll be heavy…"

England struggled to sit up, unused to the sudden heavy weight and difficulty to move.

Once he was up, he could see the state of the party. Everyone in the room, apart from the three brothers, was asleep. However, they were not their normal selves. Monsters, strange figures, historical races, surreal weapons and animals were in the place of countries.

"Ireland had woken up first…"

"Then I woke Wales, according to procedure."

"And then we woke you."

England blinked in shock, trying to comprehend this 'unique' and potentially very hazardous situation, before remembering that Scotland was there with the queen before this as well.

"Where art Scotland?"

Ireland snickered again at England's speech pattern, but Wales seemed to have more control over his actions this time.

"Still asleep beside ye."

England nodded; Scotland was standing beside him when the incident happened so it would make sense that they fell asleep beside each other. He turned to face where his brother was before the spell. However, instead of a sleeping red haired man, there was a young black cat, curled up and asleep.

England gaped at it in shock.

"Scotland is thy tiny morel cat."

"Aye."

"We didnae want ta wake him up yet until we ken whit to say to him…"

"We hafta feeling that he may not take this very weel."

"We shalt have to wake Scotland eventually." The English man reasoned.

"You dee it… I'm not going to be suckered into the government's system. I won't let 'the Man' control meh!…" The blonde's words suddenly stumbled out in a muddled rush before he blinked in confusion.

"That made nae sense, Wales."

"I ken… I dinnae know what came over me… Sorry – I dinnae know if that's from me high or not…"

"It's okay, sir. I ken that pot's a bitch when yer trying tae concentrate." The Irish soldier turned back to England. "So yer gonnae wake up, Alba?"

"Yes. I shalt take on thy quest."

"Pfft~"

"Halt your laughter! T'is not my fault!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Ireland saluted at the command, after stopping to laugh. He scowled angrily at how his body had acted by itself; like he was a real soldier taking real orders from a commander.

"Right then old chaps. We shalt wake thy slumbering morel cat."

**About 5 minutes later….**

The three man sat around the sleeping black cat; tense and nervous at the task ahead of them.

They knew they said that they would wake up Scotland, but in reality this was a highly avoided event. Usually it wasn't needed either; Scotland was such a light sleeper that someone moving around in another part of a house could wake him.

However this was a charmed sleep, they either had to wake him or wait for him to stop sleeping and no one had any idea how long that would be.

"Someone wake him… Me legs are getting stiff…"

"Military units are nae trained for these sort of procedures. I am nae authorised ta preform this operation." Ireland mumbled, looking away as he gave a weak excuse for not waking the cat himself.

Wales scowled and started blurted out loudly. "You and yer rules! This is the 'Man's' fault!"

"Who art this 'Man'?"

"I dinnae ken… I'm angry at him though!"

"Verily, thou is high…" England sighed and turned to Ireland. "And thou sound like thou is trying to avoid waking thy brother."

Ireland glared at him in reply, unable to deny it.

"Zounds! Why art I borne with such cowardly knaves as thine brothers? Scotland tis just a cat now! I shalt wake him then, ye roguish whoresons!" England snapped in annoyance.

"Did he just meh a fucking whore?"

"Ignore it Ireland… It's just a status insult from the knight's era. Roughly translated - he might just be calling you a yob or a git… or maybe a whore."

"That's nae any better!"

England ignored the two, pausing over the black cat. He lowered the front of his helmet down, earning an angry mutter of 'Whose tha damn coward now?' from Ireland.

"Peace, be quiet, Ireland!"

He reached his hand for the cat, noticing for the first time the metal gloves. It won't be comfortable for Scotland to be woken up by them but they would at least protect the blonde from any scratches.

He rested his hand on the small, furry shoulder and shook it.

**(A/N - I wonder how many of you saw this coming? Has anyone guessed the vocaloid song yet? To be honest - there are not many clues at the moment. The song becomes more involved later on in the story though. The plot will soon become quite like the song but first I'm setting up the characters and story back ground.**

**I love England's accent here! Fuck yeah for old English!**

**Wow - here's some translations. I haven't done this in a while.**

**Art - are**

**Thou - you/ your**

**Thy - I, the**

**Shalt - have**

**Halt - stop**

**T'is - this is**

**Verily - Truly **

**Thith - this**

**Knaves - lower class, servant, it insults the class of someone basically**

**Morel - black**

**Zounds - bloody hell**

**Roguish - class insult**

**Whoresons - it insults someone class again (like rogue and knave)**

**Thine - my**

**Borne - born**

**I am also trying to insult as many stereotypes as possible starting with Hippies, knights and soldiers. **

**Scotland hates to be waken. Do not waken him. He gets so pissed off. It is a dangerous sport to wake hime up.**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	104. Story 16 Chapter 5

**Lucky, Unlucky 5**

He grumbled loudly, keeping his eyes shut tight. The hand on his shoulder was hard and cold. He didn't like being woken, especially when he was feeling this groggy and sleepy.

At this rate, someone's arm was going to be broken.

He shifted slightly; feeling dizzy. He wondered briefly if he was hung over. He tried to remember what happened at the Halloween party last night.

Actually he couldn't remember most of it. It probably went on for hours as well. What had he drunk last night? He blinked and tried to list them.

He only remembered having one cup of the punch, that was just before Maeve showed up and~

Oh.

His eyes shot open as he remembered the spell. Above him, Scotland saw England, still in his armour costume. He blinked in surprised. He lifted his head slightly to see Ireland and Wales standing just behind them. They looked roughly the same, there were small differences about them and for some reason they did seem a lot bigger; probably because he was still on the ground.

He glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. It only read 7:15. He had only been asleep for 15 minutes or so.

He looked up in confusion to his younger brother, trying to figure out what the spell did; apart from the sudden nap everyone took.

The blonde was biting his lower lip nervously. Scotland raised an eyebrow, curious to what was making his brother act so strangely.

"Prithee Scotland…" The Scotsman smirked at the language, making England scowl briefly before calming down again. "… Please I pray you, doth not freak out…"

Why would he freak out? He felt fine.

He obviously looked confused because England gulped slightly before continuing. "Queen Maeve have casted a bewitching charm of a spell…" Scotland rolled his eyes at how obvious that was. "Prithee, doth not freak out." Scotland scowled once again.

Why would he freak out?

"Thy dark queen's have made what was false real... Thou art a morel cat…" He blinked.

What?

….

**What?**

…

**WHAT!**

He bolted straight up, ignoring the rush of blood. From this view point, it was like he was lying down though he was really sitting up. He lifted his hand in front of his face and gasped in shock.

It was black and small and furry with no fingers and no thumb! He lifted the other one up. It was the same!

His hands were paws!

His eyes followed the paws to his arms which were short and covered in long, soft black fur. He touched his chest frantically, noticing he was naked about from the dark hairs.

Scotland felt anxiety build up inside him. He stood up on his hind legs like a human would, too distressed to realise that it would be impossible to stay balanced.

As soon as he stood, he stumbled forward clumsily, landing on his furry stomach with a yelp.

He felt something moving on his back and glanced back at it to see a slender waving tail attached to him. His eyes widened at the sight.

His tail twitched in response.

Scotland suddenly tried to grab it, to confirm that it was truly joined to him. He reached for it but it moved away from his paw and when his paw did finally reach it, he had no opposable thumbs to grab it with.

Furious, confused and very distressed, he banged his fists on the floor, rolling around, wailing with loud, high pitched meows. He threw his head about yelling out angry cat sounds, still tumbling about the floor.

It was not a long stretch to say that Scotland was probably 'freaking out'.

England watched the black cat roll around manically, pounding his paws on the floor and meowing in rage as he finally realised he was a cat.

At first it was amusing to watch the red head's expression at the sight of his paws and when he tried to stand up like a human. Then it was adorable when he noticed his tail and tried to catch it between his two paws, mostly failing and clumsily tumbling about after it. But now it was mainly worrying.

Wales and Ireland's prediction of 'Scotland not taking this well' was accurate.

To the blonde, it looked exactly like a wild temper tantrum with paws, ears and a tail. It soon became clear as well that he wasn't going to calm down for now. He turned his head to ask what he should do now when he saw Wales grinning widely like an idiot.

"Tha kitty looks cute~" He murmured quietly, obviously not himself. "This is why we should support free love ta all…" The blonde hippy seemed to be still switching from being very sober to very high.

Ireland, on the other hand, was looking at Scotland puzzled with a slight glare. These two would be useless at the moment. England suddenly smirked as an idea came to him. Sure it was slightly cruel but he was going to enjoy his oldest brother's reaction.

"Maybe we should have thy Scotland neutered. It certainly made thine cat calmer." He suggested in a fake innocent voice while grinning a slightly sadistic smirk.

The black cat who was on his back mewing when he heard this, suddenly flipped himself onto is stomach. He had his four legs tucked under his body protectively while his tail and ears were erect in defence. He hissed angrily at the knight, baring his small white sharp teeth.

England laughed slightly. "I art only fooling you, pulling your leg as it were."

Scotland frowned slightly; not happy at being tricked. However it seems the shock of being potentially neutered had calmed him down. For the most part; his regular personality was back. He opened his mouth to talk but only a few meows came out.

"Ah. Seems like he cannae speak 'human' anymoore."

"Verily." England agreed. Scotland looked confused before meowing once. "It seems thou can understand us, Scotland. But we have nary a clue to what art thou say."

The cat sighed heavily. He muttered a grumbly meow, glaring at England.

"I know that art a insult, you knave." England replied, annoyed. Scotland just stuck out his tongue. The knight scowled more before the cat grinned widely, showing small white fangs.

Wales blinked in confusion before leaning down to look at Scotland closer.

"Yer eyes are different, Alba." He spoke softly, clearly surprised.

The cat wrinkled his nose at the stench of weed on Wale's breath. He made a purposely confused mew, attempting to ask 'what?' The hippy understood his brother's intent.

"Yer eyes always stay green when you change forms." The kitten nodded in agreement. That was always the trick to identifying Scotland when he changed forms. "Well, they're really blue now… like tha sky…"

Scotland's eyes widened. England and Ireland were suddenly in front of him instead, with poor Wales being shoved to the side, forgotten.

"Me gawd! They are blue!"

"I nary noticed thy blueish eyes 'til now!"

He ignored them for now. Scotland's blue eyes darted to England's armour and he stood with his two front paws on the steel chest plate. In the reflective steel, he saw a small black cat with soft pointed ears, long fur and large slitted sky-blue eyes.

The eye colour was a little similar to America's but the American's eyes were a bright sapphire blue, these were lighter and softer in colour.

Just like a clear sky on a sunny day. It was funny because these eyes have never seen the day time sky.

Actually, he didn't feel frustrated because of that. He felt proud his eyes were now a sky blue. It was his favourite colour.

Scotland blinked, checking that it was no illusion. He tilted his head to the side and the mirror cat copied. He tilted it to the other side and it repeated again. He looked up at the blonde with his new blue eyes and his head still cocked to the side.

England picked Scotland up off his armour and held him gently, aware that the hard armour might not be comfortable. However, the cat didn't seem to mind the steel. Scotland just laid his head down slightly like he was thinking deeply or content.

England turned to Wales. The hippy had a muddled and confused look as he stared at Scotland's eyes.

"What doth thy cat's new eyes meanth?"

"I dinnae ken… Eye colour ain't meant to change; it's meant ta be a sort of ID fer when ye change intae a new creature. Maeve's eyes are always black in whitevar form she takes fer example. Yer eyes ain't meant ta change unless ye charm them ta look different and that's still just an illusion."

"Maybe that's nae Alba then?" Ireland suggested doubtfully.

The black cat suddenly hissed angrily at the soldier, with large raised hackles.

"I think thee black cat doth say otherwise."

"Well, prove yer Alba then, ye stupid cat!"

The black cat, suddenly leapt at the Irish man, clinging onto the khaki soldier uniform with tiny claws. His hind paws supported most of his weight while his front clothes held onto the auburn's collar. He shook the collar violently in a strange parody of a human threatening someone. He mewed angrily.

"Meow! Meow, meow! Meow, Nyaa!~" Ireland glared at the offending cat.

"I cannae understand ya, eejit!" He yelled back. Somewhere in the party was a muted rumble like something had woken. However it was largely ignored as the rom returned to silence.

The black huffed, suddenly swiping his paw across the soldier's cheek in a punch. Though the result was actually a three parallel claw marks appearing on the man's cheek. Ireland hissed in shock from the pain.

Wales suddenly hollered out, "BITCH SLAP!", and pointed at them. The hippy blinked into reality again moments later. His blood rushed to his cheeks and he ended up just mumbling a pathetic sorry.

"Fucking cat! It certainly has Alba's temper! But tha' doesnae prove a single thing!" He pulled the cat off him by the collar. The kitten fought back aggressively, not liking the way he was being held. After several more scratches to his hand, the cat was quickly shoved back into England's arms.

"If ye bloody wannae prove yer me brother, tell meh something only ye would ken!"

"Nyaa!" The cat protested. Probably about how was he meant to tell them.

"If yer Alba, yer smart enuff ta figure something oot."

Scotland made an hffpt sound before jumping from England's arms across to the food table. The black animal moved about the food briefly, sniffing before finding what he was looking for.

The tomato sauce bottle.

The kitten fumbled with the lid, trying to use both paws to open it before England finally opened it for him. Scotland nodded as a sort of thank you before squeezing it against his body with his front legs and moving around on his hind legs like a human.

It seemed awkward for the cat.

The other two men watched the scene in fascination and confused, unsure to what the cat was attempting. A word appeared on the table from the sauce.

'When.'

The cat continued and more words were written in the red sauce. The men read it as he went along, though it was a slow process.

'When Ireland was 22, he took a girl home from a party. It turned out she actually had an Adam's app~'

Ireland turned scarlet as he realised what was being written.

"ARGH! Alrighty! I believe yer Scotland! I believe yer Scotland!" He grabbed the bottle from the cat's paws which knocked Scotland off balanced. The cat was forced onto all fours again. Ireland was currently busy destroying what was written on the table cloth by ripping the cloth from the table and scrunching it up. Thus Scotland was pushed from the table, along with several bowls of food.

Wales and England watched confused, while Ireland blushed heavily and the black cat laughed loudly at him.

"Did Scotland write that ye took a girl with an Adam's apple home?" The hippy asked meekly, smiling slightly as he finally understood what that meant.

"But isn't thee apple of thy Adam is only found on thy gentleman." England snickered. "You took a wrench home who turned out to be a ma~"

"Shut it! His dress was bonnie! So was his wig!" The two blondes fell into a sea of laughter. "Tha bassa is definitely Scotland!" Ireland muttered angrily, wiping the tomato sauce from his hand and glaring at his brothers, who were just calming down again. "So whit does tha mean if his eyes ainnae tha same but he's still Scottie?"

Wales shrugged. "It cannae be any good…" He mumbled, looking deep in thought before suddenly giggling.

The knight rolled his eyes. England suddenly had a bright idea.

"Thy Finnish guest was thy healer, was he not? A medical practitioner of sorts, I art mean. Thou healer could see to Scotland."

"That's nae tae bad a plan."

"Where art thy healer, then?"

They turned to face the party.

**(A/N - So no one has figured out the song? Well to be honest - this one is very difficult. The first real clue is in this chapter. There is a reference to the song's first lines.**

**Keep guessing though! There will be a prize!**

**Arthur's cat, Sherlock, may or may not be neutered. Imagine what the answer may be. Though I'm leaning towards poor Sherlock being 'snipped'. With also Merlin and Tully as well. Their owners (England, Wales and Ireland) would not want any baby cats wandering around their house.**

**North Ireland loves children and babies so he would love kitties. Hence his cat would probably be safe from the vet.**

**And Aidan is a wild cat. He can't be taken to a vet and he technically is no one's pet because he is classified as a undomesticated animal. Plus he is highly violent towards every other human apart from Scotland. He can never be neutered.**

**Aiddie probably makes fun of them for it.**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	105. Story 17 Chapter 1 One shot

**The Mathematics of Politics**

England tapped the white board with the new pen. He hummed in slight appreciation. They had had a white board for a few months now, since black boards were no longer allowed, but the pens always ran out quickly. It seemed someone had recently bought new pens judging by the sharp dense lines that spelled out 'Economy solutions'.

He had arrived slightly early as per usual. It was the regularly scheduled meeting between him and his brothers. He uncapped the pen and held it against the shiny white surface. The pen glided along the smooth board, leaving behind black ink. The blonde happily hummed 'Rule Britannia' as he began drawing caricatures of him and his four brothers.

When he finished, he stepped back to examine his work. He was actually quite proud.

His self portrait had a slight scowl, Scotland was smirking with a cigarette, Ireland was glaring, North Ireland was laughing with a wide smile and… and… Hmmm?…

There were only 4 portraits? England pondered briefly. He was sure he had 4 blood-related brothers but he only had drawn 3 plus himself.

Who had he forgotten?

He tried counting them on his fingers. Himself, Scotland, Ireland, North Ireland… Dammit!

He knew he had another brother but who?

"You fergot me…" He spun around swiftly to see Wales sitting in his seat waiting for the meeting to begin.

"Bloody hell! When did you get here?"

"I drove ye here."

"You did?"

"Aye, yer car is still broken so you asked me to pick ye up on me way past..."

"Oh, yes! Now I remember. Sorry about that old chap."

Wales mumbled something quietly before moving his chair farther away from England. As England was drawing Wales, the other 3 brothers appeared. England ignored Scotland and North Ireland, however when he saw Ireland he scowled.

"Ireland, this is a meeting for the UK. What in God's name are you doing here?"

"Me boss's order, you git. Oor economies are tae closely linked so I had ta show up." He replied grumpily, glaring at the glaring drawings of himself.

"OUR boss said nothing about this. Go home."

"Nee. And anyways, ye already drew meh face!" He said, jabbing a finger at the board. "I didnae give ye permission tae draw me face, ya wee punk! I'll sue ya."

"Och, ye cannae sue Iggy."

"Yes, the ramifications and possibility of that is incredibly imbecilic to an extent that it's futile to~"

"Yer words hurt me ears…"

"Just let him stay, ye eejit. Tha quicker this meeting gahs, tha quicker I can leave." England jumped in surprise, not realising the the red head was mere inches away and examining his drawings. "Yer fair at drawing."

"Thank you."

"Hmmm." was the vague reply. Scotland grabbed the blue pen off the holder and began doodling beside his caricature.

"What are you doing now?" England asked exasperated. He was already annoyed with Ireland being here, he didn't want his drawing to be vandalised as well.

"Oooo! Alba's drawing Nessie!" North Ireland giggled out as he watched the crisp blue lines appear in the shape of a small cutesy version of the giant legendary dinosaur like sea lizard. Some of the lines were squint and a little wobbly, obviously he wasn't very good at drawing. "D'aww. She's cute!"

"Tha real one is cuter." The Scotsman muttered, going pink in the face.

"Right, old chaps. We should start discussing the economics already."

"Ye wannae discuss economics? Then let's start already ya bastard." Ireland pulled the black board pen out of the youngest's hands. He wrote in slow, neat capital letters 'IRELAND - ENGLAND = GOOD.' England scowled angrily.

"Git." He grabbed the extra black and wrote on his side of the board. 'UK - IRELAND = :)'. He underlined it and tapped the pen at the end. He smirked over at his older brother. "Ha."

Ireland retaliated by attacking England's caricature. Horns and a devil's tail were soon added sloppily to to the drawing. England turned to Ireland's doodle to exact a similar vengeance of a moustache and goatee. How he was stopped by the sight of Ireland's already vandalised doodle.

Red love hearts were bursting out go the glaring man and his frowning lips were drawn over in a ruby smile, similar to a clown's. A red two headed arrow then pointed from the face to North Ireland's caricature.

He glanced to the side to see a giddy auburn haired man, carefully colouring in Scotland's crimson hair with the red board marker. It seemed North Ireland had found the red marker and was now doodling as well.

Scotland was now colouring in a roughly drawn cat with a long twisting blue tail beside Nessie. Probably his cat Aiddie; though the wild cat technically didn't belong to him…

"Oi! Paddy! Whit tha fuck did ye dee tae meh face?"

"I made it happy! See!" He finished Scotland's hair. "Taadaa~ Whit dee ye think, Alba?"

The red head glanced at the doodle before giving a neutral grunt.

North Ireland just gave a laugh. He wrote in cursive writing underneath Ireland._ 'north ireland + ireland = bffs' _with three small love hearts at the end.

It was shortly followed by Ireland writing a 'NOT' above and an arrow point to infront of the _'bffs'_.

The Northern country pouted. "Nae fair."

He added another red _'not'_ to beside the first to make a double negative.

'_NOT!' _was then scrawled in angrily before Ireland noticed he had interrupted another drawing.

'ENGLAND + £££ = ^-^'

"Whit?" He turned to see two more sums.

'England's cooking = Good'

'Scotland - Drinking = :D!'

England was already part way through another one.

'England's magic = gre~'

"OI!" Scotland turned from his drawing of a fairy, wondering what Ireland was annoyed at now. He scowled when he saw his name. He pushed England to the side and added a | on the - to make it 'Scotland + Drinking = :D'

"Tha's much betta, bassa."

"Idiot!" England cried out. The word he had been writing was ruined by his pen being pushed in a squiggly line through the word.

Scotland was already putting a line through 'ENGLAND + £££ = ^-^'

"Oor money, ya yob. Yer nae taking it all."

"Aye, Iggy. Ye should share moore." The two turned to see the full grown man back to drawing red love hearts again.

"Why are you drawing love hearts?…"

"Why is oor names in tha love hearts?…"

"Don't ya like them?"

"…"

"Aye, I guess they're fair bonnie but they look like tha hearts people draw of their crushes."

"Aye?"

"Ye ken - Like some school lass writing RobxLiz."

"Aye?"

"But ye half written ScotlandxEngland instead…"

"Aye?"

"And meh and England are brothers…"

"Aye?"

"… Ye take over England, I cannae explain tae him anae moore."

"North Ireland, you do realise that the way you have written it implies… l-love… between Scotland and I, right?"

"Och, aye! Oof coorse I ken that!"

The only reply was two blank stares.

"Ya two love each other right?"

Scotland's pale skin flushed bright crimson as he suddenly became very interested in the white board again while England was frozen to the spot with a dark blush as he tried to stutter out a denial.

"W-w-well…. U-uh…. W-well… I-I-I…" He suddenly crossed out the heart violently, making the pen squeak loudly in protest.

"NOT IN THAT WAY IDIOT!" He slammed the cap back on his black pen.

He turned to his four brothers - Scotland was vandalising a doodle with his blue pen, Ireland was writing out angry swears and using arrows to connect them to England's caricature, North Ireland was drawing a red leprechaun and beside Nessie and finally Wales, who had been ignored for the entire time, was crouching in front of an untouched corner of the white board, drawing dozens of green dragons.

"Right, we are meant to be discussing money and economics. We should be writing out sums! Not drawing stupid, immature doodles!" He pointed at a crudely drawn rude picture of a penis in red ink. North Ireland grinned when England glared at him.

"It wasnae meh!"

"You're the only one with a fucking red pen!"

"We are deeing sums. Wotch!" Ireland scrawled out in his black pen, 'Scotland x double = trouble' and 'North Ireland = Idiot'.

"See! Tha's maths, bitch!"

"Tha's nae maths!" Scotland protested before England had a chance to 'politely correct' his older brother._ 'Scotland 4 ∞'_ was written under the first sum.

"See, ye need numbers in maths. Ye cannae haff maths withoot numbers and shit."

"Whit tha side ways eight thingy?" North Ireland asked. Though North Ireland was great at saving money as he was good at the maths, he was only great at practical maths as that was the only maths that could be applied to money. He was useless with symbols like pi and infinity which never appeared in banking.

"It means infinity."

"Ah, so tha's 'Scotland Fer Infinity'!"

Ireland rewrote his sum out to _'Scotland x 2 = Trouble'_.

"Git…"

'43110' appeared in red ink as it would on a calculator screen, saying 'Hello'.

Wales smiled slightly at that. '8008135' Scotland smirked as he underlined the numbers that read 'Boobies'.

Ireland gave him a high five while England rolled his eyes in exasperation . The oldest two were laughing at the immature word when another foreign laugh interrupted them.

"Ohonhonhonho~" A blonde appeared at the door.

"Frog! Why the fuck are you here, you wanker!"

"Non, non, non, non. I did come 'ere to talk to ze silly, petit Angleterre. Ohonhonho~ Tu stupid tea sipper." England blinked at the empty space that once held France. His eyes shot over to Scotland who France was now beside. How the hell did he move so fast!

"I am 'ere to see mon amour!" The blonde turned to see the board now.

He sighed at the primitive doodles. The British boys were not destined to be good artists, let alone great ones...

Suddenly snatching the capped black pen from England's unprepared hand, France approached the board.

"L'Ecosse, tu art iz zimply terrible!" He removed the lid with a beautiful flourish. "Let 'Big Brother' zhow tu 'ow it is done, oui?"

"I'm aulder than ya." Scotland replied in a small grumble but otherwise let France do what he pleased.

England on the other hand was trying to stop the stubble faced man from doing anything more to divert the chaotic meeting any more than it had been. But he was distracted by Ireland who trying to draw on England himself!

While the English man was forced to defend his creamy skin from the dark felt tip pen, France had began drawing a large scale drawing that overlapped several small doodles. Scotland was watching the blonde worked intently, fascinated by France's natural talent and eye for beauty. The blue eyed man looked like he was concentrating deeply as his eyes followed the dark lines carefully. The red head smiled unconsciously at the sight.

Wales was watching Scotland's softened expression carefully. The oldest brother always had a gentle spot for France, even when they fought. The shy man snuck a glance at France before peeking at France's drawing.

He quickly turned a deep shade of crimson.

Well... France's picture was certainly... _graphic_...

And surprisingly _detailed_...

He looked away blushing, before looking at his dancing green dragons. 3 of them had already been shallowed up by France's drawing, leaving only 5.

He glanced at the picture again.

France had certainly chosen... an_ interesting angle_...

Wait! Was the one on the right... Yes, it certainly did bare a certain sketchy resemblance to him...

France had drawn Scotland in a rather... compromising position...

Now that Wales looked at the second scandalous person, he realised it wasn't a female but France...

Oh dear... When England notices this, he is going to~

"WHAT THE FUCK IS _THAT_ PICTURE?" The blonde screamed as he pushed the Irish man away. He was red faced at the scene, though it was still only half drawn.

France scowled as his concentration was broken. He glared at England. "C'est obvious! C'est mon amour et moi!" He sniffed as if offended.

Scotland looked at the drawing for the first time. He tilted his head to the side as he examined the incomplete doodle with it's shaded areas and fully exposed parts. Suddenly he smirked, blushing slightly. "Heh." France smiled slightly at the red head's response.

"I knew L'Ecosse would like it."

Ireland and North Ireland had frozen as they also took in the... _explicit image_...

How could they have missed that? It was so big and the legs were everywhere and... and... and...

Well... It certainly drew the eye anyway...

When England's phone went off, he barely paid attention to it. After all he had France's doodle to look at. That was until he noticed it was a message from a PM saying that he was just coming over to check the process and current results of the meeting. Oh dear...

He turned to the four men who were still staring at the drawing that France was still working on.

"Quick! Erase that! Now! Our boss is coming!"

Scotland rolled his emerald eyes at his panicking brother.

"Dinnae git yer knickers in a bunch. This pen comes oof in seconds." To demonstrate he rubbed his long pale finger over one of his blue fairy doodles.

However... The line did not budge.

The Scotsman blinked in surpass before trying ti rub the drawing out again. Once again the blue ink remained on the otherwise flawless white board.

He paled suddenly as he glanced at the blue pen in his hand. He twisted the marker around until he finally came to the label. Rather than saying the regular 'Dry Erasable Ink', it said in bold, taunting letters **'Permanent Ink'.**

"Fuck..."

All the blood rushed from his face and he suddenly looked very worried.

"What?..."

"These are _Permanent_ markers..."

**"FUCK..." **All four remaining brothers repeated at the same time. France also looked rather shocked as he began examining the label of his pen and the graphic contents of his drawing. This was not going to end well for him either...

Suddenly England turned angry.

"Who the fuck bought these new pens?"

North Ireland suddenly gulped. "Eh... Sorry?..."

"YE EEJIT!" Ireland burst out, grabbing his younger doppelganger's collar.

"Once tha boss turns up, we're gonnae be in some deep shit!" Scotland hissed out in irritation as he looked over the ENTIRE contents of the scrambled board with it's chaotic word and doodle war. It was not a pretty sight. Mostly it was crude.

"Quickly!" England suddenly cried out with a plan forming in his mind. "Lets just remove the board and throw it out after the me~"

Knock~ Knock~

"OCH Shite! He's here already?"

"L'Ecosse! Desole!"

"Shut it Frog! Everyone stand in front of the board and do NOT move!" England commanded.

The six men arranged themselves hurriedly as the Prime Minister entered with a smile. It seemed he was in a good mood for now. Though he did shoot a semi-cautious look at France who looked tensed beside Scotland.

He continued grinning though, preferring to be optimistic.

"So guys, have you come up with any solutions to our economy's solution?"

"Uh..."

"Um..."

"Eh..."

"Ugh..."

"Ah..."

"Aye?" Scotland finally answered because the orchestra of unsure sounds finally became too annoying for him.

Everyone turned to him with bulging eyes.

The Prime Minister looked relieved. "Great. Share the plan."

He paused for a moment as he thought about his reply. "Poorer folks dinnae spend money while richer folks spend moore." He finally said decisively. England groaned loudly shaking his head. That was such a stupid answer! Admittedly he did not have an answer himself but still!

Their boss's face fell, looking quite irritated at the poor excuse of a idea.

"Anything else?"

"Many a mickle, make a muckle?"

The Prime Minister scowled annoyed. "That is _everything?_"

The six men remained silent and unmoving, looking awkward as they stood in their strange formation, shielding the disastrous white board. It did not take a genius to figure out they were hiding something and their current boss was certainly quite intelligent.

"Move."

"Excuse me, sir. We rather not."

"Move."

"Dinnae ye want tae look oot tha windae. It's rather bonnie tae day."

"Move."

"Only if ya close yer eyes."

"Move."

"Promise nae tae git angry at least."

"Move."

"Can moi 'ave a lawyer first?"

"Move."

"Why not~"

"Move."

The men glanced at each, realising that they were losing this battle. Badly. Wales sighed heavily and on some unknown signal, all six men moved away from the board.

The First thing the Prime Minister saw was the vandalised caricatures of Scotland, Ireland, North Ireland, Wales and England with the Economy Solutions title.

The Second thing the Prime Minister saw was the pictures of cats, fairies, dragons and Nessie.

The Third thing the Prime Minister saw were word equations that insulted some of the brothers.

The Fourth thing the Prime Minister saw was a large red love heart with Scotland and England's name in it.

The Fifth thing the Prime Minister saw was a very explicit pornographic half finished drawing that took up one quarter of the board.

He gaped at it, unable to remove his eyes from it. "Is that... France?..."

"Oui." France replied sheepishly.

"And Scotland?..."

"Aye but usually I'm tha one on top but Fran~"

"Shut it! I don't want to hear anymore!" The man cried out, forcing his gaze from the passionate drawing that was strangely memorising. It was surprisingly detailed with sweat and facial expressions and... God he didn't want to think of it any more.

"Ye ken, ye haft ken aboot oor relations with other countries tae. So ye can make informed decisions."

"I DON'T WANT TO BE THAT INFORMED!" He suddenly snapped. "Erase it!"

"Ah. We can't sir."

"WHY?"

"We cannae, 'cause it's all in permanent ink..."

"..."

The Prime Minister sighed in defeat. Some how he should have seen something like this coming. Really, it was kind of his fault for expecting something positive to happen from forcing all these men together.

"Fuck it. Go home. I'll deal with the white board later." He ordered suddenly, taking everyone by surprise with both his language and tone.

"So we are not in trouble, sir?" England asked in shock. He flinched when the human glared at him with a sudden fierce intensity.

"You 4 are in big trouble. And France and Ireland's bosses will be informed as well." He turned and began to stalk out the room angrily. Just as he left, he glanced back at the nations. "And you can bet your bloody arses that the Queen will hear of this."

The door slammed loudly and the door frame shook slightly.

"Aw fuck."

**(A/N - Mainly a drabble about their relationships. I was bored and waiting for my router to be I didn't know how to end it properly. I wished it had a slightly better ending, it just kinda trails off at the moment. I guess I can't complain as long as people like it.**

**So - Do people like it?**

**Many a mickle, make a muckle - A classic Scottish saying. Mickle means small things and Muckle means big things. It basically means Many little things, Make sometime big. So Scotland is saying by saving lots of small amounts of money, it will eventually be a large amount of money. **

**As they say many pennies make a pound.**

**Review and tell me.**

**And btw - France has a large crush on Scotland. He has been in love with him for many, many, many years, back to their teen years. However, Scotland likes France like a friend sometimes and like a lover the other times. So Scotland does love France too but it waxes and wanes much to France's dismay (mainly because Scotland is heterosexual). France accepts that though and freely dates other people, waiting for Scotland. However they are always close.**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	106. Story 18 Chapter 1

**Black or White 1**

"Today in London, there is shock and outrage as robbers escape from a daring day-light robbery in central London. There are 4 suspects, 3 males and a female, all in the late twenties. The group were believed to be warmed with knifes and a hand gun. So far the police are unable to identify the suspects but are interrogating witnesses."

The tanned woman wore a straight face as she stared forward and spoke evenly. Her black hair was pulled back into a tight bun.

"According to our sources, several shots were fired and so far there are only three reported injuries. The bank teller on duty, Alexander Smith, received two bullets to his shoulder, after initially refusing to deliver the money. The security guard, Peter Miller, was shot in the thigh upon entry. Also, a young girl, Laura Brown, age 8, was clipped by a stray bullet on her hand. There were no fatal injuries and all three patients are being treated at a local hospital."

Her expression was more serious by now.

"A fourth victim, Arthur Kirkland, is suspected as well, as the male was found unconscious just one street away. So far, the hospital has confirmed that he had received a minor injury. There is no telling if he is indeed related to the crime. Police are currently waiting for him to regain conscious to question him."

The woman paused and cleared her throat slightly.

"In other news, there is a reported shooting in Edinburgh as a wounded man, Iain Stewart Kirkland, was found in Holyrood Park. Though according to the witnesses that found his body, there were no gun shots near the time. The police are baffled by the strangeness of the crime."

The tanned woman blinked slightly like she couldn't believe the words, she had to read out loud next.

"According to one woman who was on scene at the time, whose name will not be divulged, Iain was shot right through the fore head but was still breathing, though no evidence has come to back this doubtful claim. Currently, he is in surgery in a critical condition after being transferred to a hospital in another city."

She paused again.

"It is also believed that this Iain Kirkland is related to the previously mentioned Arthur Kirkland, who was found unconscious in London. Their exact relationship is unknown to the public at the moment but we assume that the two are brothers. Right now, police are loo~"

"Turn it oof…"

A tired gruff voice spoke softly. It sounded strange as if it was not used to being so quiet.

The TV screen blinked to black taking the news announcer with it.

The white room was silent now apart from heavy breathing and quivering.

**(A/N - Duh. Duh. DUN!~**

**Shocking beginning huh?**

**Anyway - This is also based on a vocaloid song. (A dark one as you can guess by this prologue.) It's more obvious that the Lucky, Unlucky one but only after this chapter. (This is just a prologue and scene setter) No one has guessed the song for Lucky, Unlucky yet though some have come close.**

**PS - There is also a prize if you guess the name of the song for this story as well.**

**Now - Because I want this story to be a giant MYSTERY! I will post one chapter every couple of days despite almost finishing the entire story. (It's quite short - it's near the end but only on chapter 8.)**

**So be patient.**

**Also - One small request - I want to hear your suspicions! TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK IS ACTUALLY GOING ON OR GOING TO HAPPEN!**

** I want to hear your conspiracies, theories and strange thoughts about what will happen next. This is my first real attempt at a mystery so I want to see if I'm doing a good job. In theory, if I am doing a good job, you will doubt what is happening, who is wrong or right, what will happen next and you will hopefully be wrong when you guess the ending.**

**So enjoy and let your mind wander around and think of all the possibilities that could happen.**

**AND REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	107. Story 18 Chapter 2

**Black or White 2**

White.

White.

White.

Here and there, it is all white.

He blinked.

Why was everything so white?

It hurt his eyes a bit. His body felt comfy though, like he had a good sleep.

He sat up in the white bed and looked around confused. He couldn't remember where he was. It was so white. It made him feel uneasy.

He looked around again and spotted a door. Just as he decided that he was going to get out of the bed and escape from the white room, it opened.

A man with red-brown hair stood there gaping at him like he was bright purple. The door slammed shut again and a yell came from outside it.

"SEAMUS! COLIN! He's awake! He's awa~" It was fading though as if the voice's owner was moving away. There were also footsteps that sounded like running. He blinked again in surprise as he sat in the bed.

The footsteps returned followed by two others, loud and fast.

The door flew open again.

The first man with reddish brown hair was accompanied by another auburn haired man and a man with blondish brown curly hair.

"He's awake! See! I told ye, Ireland!" The tallest man, called Ireland apparently, looked a mixture between relief, disbelief and happy.

"Oor brother is awake again!" The short auburn was still yelling, grinning happily and bouncing like a child. He hoped over to the bed. "Foos yer doos?"

"Huh?" The man laughed.

"How ye feeling, silly? Ye been asleep fer a while. Three whole days!"

"Paddy, calm down please…" A quiet voice distracted him. The blonde appeared at the other side of the bed. He didn't notice him move at all. The man in bed gulped slightly.

"Uh. Fine." He answered the auburn man's question quickly. All three men smiled at him. They looked tired; pale, taunt skin with dark rings under their eyes.

Suddenly the tallest, 'Ireland', stopped smiling and scowled slightly.

"I wasnae bothered at all."

The smiley one cocked his head. "He's just lying 'cause he's proud. He was worried tha entire time."

"No, I wasnae. I ken he was going to be fine! He's a tough one."

The reply was a loud, boisterous laugh. "Just don't do this again, broth! We all missed you, ye eejit!"

"Aye…"

"I guess so ya wee bampot."

"That means we loved ya!" The smiling auburn answered cheerfully.

The bed-ridden man cleared his throat; it felt dry and crackly from under use and little hydration.

"Who are you?" He asked.

The room fell silent.

"Don't ya remember us?" The quiet one asked quickly, to confirm anything before there was panic.

"Should I?"

Suddenly the shorter auburn man stopped smiling. He looked shaken up, his eyes were wide and damp looking, his bottom lip quivered and his entire body was stiff. He looked like a child trying his hardest not to cry. His expression had changed so quickly.

The look of upset and distress made the bedded man worry. He didn't want this man to be sad for some reason.

Ireland who stood behind him didn't appear sad, just edgy, like he might snap and attack at any time.

The blonde seemed only solemn, obviously the most mature and probably the oldest despite having a smaller stature.

The smaller auburn suddenly started shaking and hiccupping with his eyes becoming more watery, though he didn't shed any tears. The blonde spoke softly.

"Take North Ireland out before he gets anymore upset…. Help calm him down."

'Ireland' gripped 'North Ireland's' fore arm in a painful looking hold before dragging him from the room. Just as he left the man burst into tears. Ireland didn't seem in any state to help calm someone down when he was obviously just as distressed, even if he showed it differently.

The brunette/blonde was left alone with him. He dragged a chair to the side of the bed and sat down in it. He placed his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands and let out a long, heavy sigh, like the weight of existence was on his shoulders.

"What dee you remember?"

"Remember?" He thought as he stared at the blonde in the chair.

He had never thought about it before but he didn't actually remember anything. He knew how to eat and dress himself and go to the bathroom. Basic things like that. There was nothing personal in his mind though, nothing that suggested who he was or anything about his history.

"I don't think I remember anything…." He whispered, turning to stare at the ceiling.

It was white.

White.

White.

White.

Here and there, it is all white.

Like his memories. A muffled voice spoke to him and he turned to the blonde. It said something familiar but he could not hear or understand it properly.

"Excuse me?"

The blonde looked up confused. "I neva said anything."

"Ah." The blonde sighed again.

"I suppose I should tell ya who we are…" He paused and stared into the green eyes of the man in bed. He looked thoughtful before he closed his eyes.

He remained quiet, still and with his eyes closed for what seemed like an eternity. He opened them again, seeming less strained. He spoke quietly but his voice was actually rather beautiful if you properly listened to it. It raised and fell perfectly, making it interesting and nice to hear. If only he spoke louder.

"My name is Cymru. Translated inta English is Wales. Humans call me Colin though. Colin Kirkland."

He paused again to close his eyes, like he was resting again. The bedded man waited patiently, guessing that this was how he expressed his stress; by becoming like a statue.

Ireland became tense and ready to snap, North Ireland broke down, Wales froze.

He wondered what he did.

He couldn't remember.

"I am tha fourth born brother. The first man ya saw is called North Ireland or Tuaisceart Éireann. Humans call him Patrick Kirkland or Paddy fer short. He is the third oldest." He gulped and closed his eyes briefly.

"The other was Ireland or Seamus Duffy Kirkland. Ireland is called Éire but that's an auld name like Cymru and Tuaisceart Éireann…. He's tha second oldest…."

"Who is the oldest?"

The man had a feeling he knew the answer though. A feeling in his gut told him he knew who it was. His skin crawled with the truth. The man in bed felt that he must be the oldest; that he is the oldest.

This man talking to him must be his youngest brother!

The blonde became to answer him. "The oldest brother is…" The bedded man held his breath, waiting for an answer he knew would come.

"Another man called Alba, or in modern times - Scotland. His other name is Iain Stewart Kirkland… Unfortunately… He is also… hospitalised…" He trailed off, biting his bottom lip before closing his eyes again.

What? That can't be true. It felt like he was the oldest.

"What?" His disbelief was obvious.

However Wales mistook the disbelief's reason.

"He was hospitalised on the same day as ya… A gunshot to tha head and other shots to his chest… There are various knife wounds on his arms too." The bedded man stared at his pale hands on the white bed sheets.

"What's my name then? Why am I here?"

"You are England. Humans call you Arthur Kirkland. Some people call you Britain… As for why you are here… We dinnae know…"

He blinked.

He was…. Arthur?...

That felt foreign and wrong but also right?

"Ye didnae have any injuries or any reason to collapse. You have been asleep for 3 days. We had a suspicion it was ta do with a bank robbery but we're nae sure…. Actually we had hoped ye would tell us but…"

But he had lost all his memories…

Arthur knew he should feel panicked or worried or even confused at having being in hospital with amnesia but he felt strangely calm.

White everywhere, inside and out.

He sighed leaning back on his pillow, wondering what he was meant to do next.

**(A/N - I was going to post this story on Tuesday but I was banned from submitting for a few days... Turns out my Scotland letters were not allowed because Q&As are against 'Da Rulez' **

**...**

**Yeah the vocaloid song for this story is REALLY obvious now... (If you know vocaloid.) SarcasticCynicalNinja has already won the other one. It was in fact 'Black Cats of the Eve'.**

**Wow - you guys sure have crazy theories! I loved hearing them! Lots of you are leaning towards the robbers being other countries like the rest of Britain or the bad touch trio. Of I am neither going to confirm or denial whether that is true or not. **

**My favourite theory so far includes England and Scotland being set up to be hated by everyone because they kicked the bad guy's puppy. (AzmariaHarmony - I hope you recover from being shot repeatedly soon!)**

**Which might also be true.**

**However - this chapter has none of the answers to confirm/denial the theories you guys have suggested so far. I hope it adds a weird twist to the events and give you guys more conspiracies.**

**SO TELL ME ANY NEW THEORIES! I loved the first ones so much - I'm curious to see if this has spurred on any more!**

**Also - I have a poll on favourite Scotland pairing on my profile for anyone who wants to vote.**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	108. Story 18 Chapter 3

**Black or White 3**

The next few hours were awkward as the police questioned the clueless man. The doctors also wanted to examine him and confirm his memory lost. It had been an annoyingly long day.

The men who called themselves his brothers also reappeared.

They seemed a lot calmer, now that the initial shock of their younger brother having amnesia was over. They started telling him things, trying to jog his memory.

He was a representation of the country of England, he was part of the UK, he was 23, he lived in the outer skirts of London in a cottage, he was mostly immortal, he healed at an increased rate compared to humans and he could also see magical creatures but he shouldn't say that out loud to other humans.

He still couldn't remember anything though.

He was out of bed now, in normal clothes – an informal dark green suit.

The blonde looked in a mirror at himself and was surprised by his appearance.

He had green eyes, pale skin and was a bit skinny looking but so were his brothers so that didn't shock him.

However he was shocked by the fact his had blonde hair. For some reason he was expecting something else, another colour. His height seemed strange to him; he felt a lot shorter than he should be. He felt like he was meant to be quite a tall person, rather than this average height blonde.

He was also pleasantly surprised and pleased that he was fairly good looking. He wondered briefly if he had a girlfriend but dismissed it quickly. He doubted he would date a girl who would not visit him while he was in hospital.

Arthur straightened his tie.

He glanced at his eyebrows and suddenly noticed their size. England was a little surprised at their size; he didn't expect to have thick eyebrows but it also felt normal to him.

The only plight that he had was a white square on his cheek.

He wondered what was behind it.

Gently he pulled the sticky bandage away from the skin. He took it away completely and his light green eyes widened.

On his cheek was a raw scarlet X.

The red against the white made it distinguishing. He touched it and it stung slightly.

Where did it come from?

His mind remained blank.

England had discovered he remembered how to cook meals, how to disassemble and reassemble fire arms, how to clean mustard from a table cloth and how to do various jobs that didn't require personal knowledge like names and dates. Yet he couldn't remember where he got this cut from.

It didn't matter much anyway.

Even though he only woke up this morning, he was already allowed to leave. That speedy healing body was apparently very handy.

However he had told the doctors, he would rather live in hospital for a couple of days to get used to his amnesia and identity as Arthur Kirkland, England.

A snicker came from the door and he flinched. North Ireland was grinning tightly at him, forcing a smile.

"Hey, Iggy. Worried ye haff lost yer good looks?" England scowled which made the Irish man laugh strangely again. The blonde looked back to the mirror, deciding not to replace the plaster.

Suddenly he heard a murmur.

"…. … switched…"

It sounded like what he had heard earlier with Wales. A familiar voice and phrase. This time though it was less muffled. Still he could not understand what the voice had said.

"Excuse what did you say?"

"I said come on. The doctor says that being around familiar things might help you remember. Plus Alba is finally open to visitors today."

"Alba?"

"Scotland. He's tha oldest. Wales told ye that, remember?" The auburn haired man began walking out the door, expecting the blonde to follow.

"What do you mean 'finally open to visitors'?" He asked as he followed him.

North Ireland made a small frown but then began smiling tensely. He guessed waiting around in a hospital for three days with two brothers in bed gave you time to harden up against the pain.

"Ah. He was shot several times. He was in surgery for hours. It's only to be expected, aye, that he wasnae able to haff people see him, right?"

"Aye."

The Irish boy suddenly laughed. "It sounds funny when ye talk like that."

"You talk like that."

"I'm Irish."

"And?"

"It's me accent. Ye should speak more Englandly."

"Englandly?"

"Aye. More Engla~ Oh! It's this ward!" England wasn't paying attention to where he was being lead so was surprised when he suddenly found himself in front of the intensive care unit.

"ICU…" The blonde mumbled to himself.

The door swung open automatically like a mouth in the wall.

They entered.

The mouth of the wall snapped shut, saying nothing.

It was eery how silent the place was.

The Irish man walked along the rooms, peeking in each window for their brother.

"Ah Ha!" He stopped so suddenly that England bumped into him.

"What?"

"It's this room, silly!" He jumped through the door excitably. The blonde followed nervously, not sure what to expect.

The man had been shot in the chest and forehead by the robbers, right? How could he possibly still be alive?

Ah, right…

Practically immortal country…

He wondered if he had been shot before. He was shook from his thoughts by the comatose man before him.

The man was pale, just a slightly lighter skin tone than him and darker than the white bed sheets. He had crimson hair, the colour of blood. He also had a tightly wrapped white bandage around his forehead and a similar white square plaster in the same place as England's was.

They weren't the only things tarnishing his face.

A rather scary looking breathing mask covered his mouth, helping the red head breath oxygen from a tank. There was slight condensation on the inside of the clear plastic. An IV dripped a clear liquid into his right hand from a bag on a metal pole while another machine pumped a thick, dirty yellow food substance through a tube that went up his nose and presumably into his stomach.

The covers on the bed were pulled back slightly, revealing his upper chest which was bare except for the bandages that covered his left shoulder and chest. His arms had several more square white bandages. The room was quite warm so it wasn't surprising that the covers were not completely covering him.

A heart rate machine beeped steady as it monitored his pulse while another machine measured his brain activity which had low readings for the moment. It seemed he was brain dead. A bullet to the forehead can do that though.

England stared at the man, feeling a bit like an idiot, unsure of what to do or say.

He didn't recognise this person at all.

**(A/N - And here is the next part in this (hopefully) mysterious story.**

**Most people are making guesses along magical memory lost and mind switching. I find it quite amusing that most assumed Scotland had lost his memory as well. However this chapter kinda shifts that around. No one will know if he does have memory lost until he wakes up. Another mystery in other words. Mwuhahahaha!**

**To be honest - one thing that surprised me was that no one was 'yelling' at me yet for basically killing both Scotland and England. I was expecting some comments along the lines of "NO! Scottie! HOW COULD YOU SHOOT HIM?" or "OMG! How can you do that you Iggy! Bring him back!" or "I LOVE YOU ALBA! GET BETTER!"**

**But now I am expecting some of them now... You can't make one of the main characters brain dead without a comment about it.**

**I was expecting haters to suddenly show up for some reason since I switched on anon reviews. I nearly hoped for one so I can use my razor sharp British wit, sarcasm and Scottish rage. I had a weird moment were I suddenly thought. 'Come get me bitches and haters! I'm bloody Scottish so I'm bullet proof! Mwuhahahaha!' Though the fact Scotland has been shot disproves that bullet proof bit...**

**The 'You should sound more Englandly' is based on a comment I got in Edinburgh. Apparently I don't sound Scotlandly enough for a taxi driver's liking. Ignore the fact I have lived in the Highlands my entire life and that my family has been living in Scotland for generations. **

**The reason he said it is probably because the Inversnaky accent is quite different from the Edinburgh one. We still say Scotlandly things like 'Aye', 'Cheers mate' and 'dinnae' but we don't use as many as the low lands do. However - People from Inverness never say their 't's. We say wa'er, bet'er and wet-er instead of water, better and wetter. Plus we are responsible for the imaginary word 'jamp'. We say it instead of jumped.**

**The hospital description is vaguely based on when my granny had a stroke and was hospitalised.**

**GIVE ME MORE GUESSES! I loved the ones I have read so far! Some of your theories are great! I love the ones with large scaled evil organisations and magic.**

**Please Review!)**


	109. Story 18 Chapter 4

**Black or White 4**

His visit to his supposed big brother, Scotland, had been awkward.

It was like visiting a unknown man and trying to feign emotions for him. He felt pity for Scotland but no more than a normal person seeing a stranger in hospital.

Wales, North Ireland and Ireland were there for most of the time. He had asked them questions about the red head. Mostly, they didn't have any problems, answering straight when he questioned them about how the two had gotten on, they seemed reluctant to answer; mostly saying that's it complex and he shouldn't worry about that for now.

It made him a little curious about their relationship.

However, Arthur was _very_ curious about the bandage on the red head's cheek.

It was scarily similar in position and size to the one that was on his cheek.

When the others had left, due to visiting hours ending, he had stayed. He was going to live in the hospital for a while, meaning he could visit Scotland whenever - unlike the others.

He stared at the bandage on the cheek, partially covered by the breathing mask.

After a while, England slowly reached forward, tugging on the sticky white square. It came off with relative ease like his.

Underneath it was a crimson X; an exact copy of the wound he had.

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped.

Suddenly he heard the voice speak again.

"…corpses…. switched…"

"What does that mean?" He asked annoyed and out loud.

Nothing answered him though.

The echoing voice was becoming clearer every time he heard it.

He sighed heavily.

He was unnerved by the shared wound the brothers both suffered from, it was just too coincidental.

Curious to see if the other similar square bandages on his arms bore the same mark, he peeled each one off carefully and slowly.

Each time he gasped in shock.

It was the exact same knife wound over and over again. The same bright red X! All over his arms, on his cheek and on England's cheek.

When he finished, the pale muscly arms were just covered in more than 8 identical Xs. England gaped, unsure of what this meant.

"… corpses… be switched…" The blonde gripped his head, suddenly feeling tired.

The voice was scaring him now as it became less muffled and louder.

He felt haunted by it, by his missing past and most of all by his red haired brother who shared his cheek wound.

It had been a long day despite the fact he didn't actually do much about from answer and asking questions.

He quickly left the room, feeling trapped and the need to escape. However, even when he left the ICU ward and back to his room, he still felt trapped.

He was surrounded by white.

It pressed into him and the feeling bothered him.

Another thing that bothered England was Scotland's appearance.

The one that he had imagined for himself before seeing himself, what he really looked like, in a mirror was exactly like Scotland. Tall, red haired and a bit pale. It was freaky.

The blonde flopped onto his bed slightly freaked out and exhausted.

Hopefully a good night sleep will help reveal some answers to his hidden past, the mumbling voice he could sometimes hear and Scotland whose wounds are too similar to be coincidence.

* * *

><p><em>It was sunny with a slightly chilling breeze. <em>

_It felt good as he walked down the oddly familiar street; a rolled up news paper under one arm while the other held a closed umbrella, using it like a walking cane. England looked around trying to remember where this was and why he was walking in this direction. _

_It felt like London. _

_Yes, London. He wasn't sure what or where that was, but it felt like there. _

_London._

_It felt familiar; even though the name was weird. He felt slightly relieved at the familiarness. _

_He didn't seem to have much control over his actions which startled him greatly; especially when his body suddenly walked down a secluded street without a single soul. _

_Where was he going? Where was everyone else? He thought panicked._

_ Luckily his mind answered him. _

Secret shortcut.

_So he was taking a shortcut but to where? _

_His subconscious mind didn't answered this time._

_ Instead he just continued forward. He wondered as he went if this was a memory or a clue to his past. _

_A couple of low, thudding bangs went off close by, slightly muted by the distance. _

_He blinked in confusion, recognising the sounds but not identifying it. _

_The world suddenly shifted out of focus making him dizzy. Everything warped around him._

_What was happening?_

_3 blurry people appeared, completely dressed in black, and moving very quickly as if sped up unnaturally. They were moving about him in sudden, quirky movements as his body twisted away from them against his will. He felt little slashes of pain, unsure what was happening._

_It was painful though._

_Was he being attacked by these people?_

_The world was speeding up more. Everything began to move faster and faster._

_ A flash of crimson came as a fourth man entered. He moved around the black blurs._

_Everything was moving too quirky now and it hurt. It hurt so much._

_Especially his head and chest which suddenly bursted with pain. It was too much! He screamed loudly, bellowing as loud as he could and straining his lungs. His voice protested to the scream._

_The world faded to a blinding white before fading to the deepest of blacks._

_The pain increased and the voice finally spoke again._

_This time though it was slow, precise and crystal clear._

_"The corpses shall be switched."_

_'What?' He thought frantically trying to erase the pulsing pain in his mind._

_"The corpses shall be switched."_

He screamed a second time, waking up and sitting up just as a nurse entered his room.

"Mr Kirkand!" She rushed to his bedside, trying to soothe the panicking blonde. He breathed raspy swallow breathes, looking around at the four white walls.

"Breath slowly and deeply. That's it. Just calm down." The nurse cooed softly and Arthur quickly found himself responding. He sighed as he felt himself relax more.

It had been a nightmare.

A simple nightmare.

"I'm sorry miss, it was a nightmare. Sorry." He apologised profusely, feeling suddenly very ashamed for a fully grown man to be screaming from a simple nightmare like a child.

The nurse nodded, before quickly checking the equipment and leaving to attend to other patients.

Arthur laid back in his bed, quickly noticing he was now wearing PJs instead of the suit. He paid it no heed though.

He tried to shake off the remains of the nightmare, assuring himself it was just a dream.

Or a memory…

He gulped slightly touching his cheek.

What if it was a memory?…

He shifted nervously, trying to coax himself back into a uneasy sleep.

**(A/N - Someone has guessed the answer to 'Which Vocaloid song is this based on?' but to keep some of the mystery, I will still not state the name of the song. **

**There are lots of amazing guesses. An anon called 'anon' was boasting and sticking out his/her tongue because he/she thinks he/she has figured it out. Has anyone not suspected or doubted that I would try to make one story line seem obvious then suddenly reveal that that was not what was happening the entire time? I'm not going to say if anon was right or not but please consider that a good mystery will be just as misleading or it is mysterious.**

**Favourite guess so far - Arenarceus and his insistence that an evil organisation MUST exist. That may or may not be true though. However I love the dedication to theory of the organisation of evil-doers being behind this whether it is correct or not.**

**I want to hear more theories! I hope this stirs up some contrasting theories. Most of them seem to be basically the same as each other so I'm taking this as I am not being mysterious enough. I was hoping for lots of different ideas or something...**

**EDIT - Thanks to Arenarceus for pointing out a spelling mistake. I don't mind grammar nazis 'cause they are a big help for me. **

**I always end up rereading my chapters for mistakes before uploading because I don't have a BETA (Scottish pride dictates that I can do this by myself!) but I always miss a bunch. (Surprisingly I have dyslexia but I don't let that stop me! I just work harder! It bugs me off when people use that as an excuse for having lousy English skills. That never stopped me or my mum. It's just a matter of determination to over come that obstacle.) **

**Then after I upload my new chapter - I notice all the mistakes I missed! Of course, I'm too lazy to change them _all_ unless someone points them out. However - I had missed that pealed/peeled one completely! Thanks again!**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	110. Story 18 Chapter 5

**Black or White 5**

The next day, he sat beside Scotland staring at the red head.

His dream was on his mind as he thought deeply. He had forgotten parts of it. The bits he did remember were pointless or blurred. However he remembered a flash of crimson in his dream. Thought it had been unfocused, England felt like it held a slight likeness to Scotland's scarlet spiky hair. He had maybe dreamt of Scotland.

He also felt that this was a memory; being simply too vivid in some areas to be a dream.

"The corpses shall be switched." The voice spoke again at the back of his head.

Since his nightmare, the voice was now crystal clear and more persistent; hearing it more often. A quick and quiet whisper that only he could hear.

Though he did not think himself mad despite this; he was sure there was a deep meaning behind the words.

A secret power.

A connection to his past that remained unknown.

This he was positive of.

However, the meaning of the phrase was still a mystery. With no context, it was impossible to identify its meaning. It could be talking about anyone, anything, anywhere in anytime of his past! And he apparently had a long past.

He rubbed his eyes slightly, still tired. His night was restless. He wondered who the other 3 blurry men were that were in his dream along side his brother.

He couldn't see any of their features, just black blobs. Maybe they were the other three brothers.

But they had attacked him right!

The red blob that could be Scotland looked like he was attacking the blobs as well…

They couldn't be his brothers right?

Though he didn't really consider any of them his brothers because he couldn't remember them. They seemed so forein to him. Were they even his brothers?

He was so confused.

He was so deep in thought that he didn't even notice the auburn haired man sneaking up on him.

"Hey Iggy!" He yelled suddenly grabbing the blonde's shoulders.

England screamed loudly in shock, turning to see… uh.. North Ireland!

He glared at the man.

"Gawd, ya scream like a wee girl!" Paddy laughed out, plonking himself down on the second chair next to England. "Tha other two went tae see ya first but I guess yer here instead."

"Yeah… I guess I am…" England said awkwardly, unsure of how he was meant to be reacting to the man.

"Hmmm…. Ye seem kinda really serious. Whit's wrong, Iggy?"

"What's Iggy?"

"A nickname fer ye."

"Ah."

The blonde decided he didn't like the name and wondered if he like it before the memory lose. He doubted he did.

"Dinnae distract meh though. I ken it's easy but please dinnae." England blinked in surprise. He had gotten the expression that this man was overly cheerful and dipsy; however he seemed serious at the moment. "Whit's wrong?" He asked again.

England didn't really want to tell a stranger that he had a nightmare. It felt weird...

However North Ireland looked so expectant that it was hard to refuse.

"I had a weird dream… I think it was a memory…" North Ireland grinned.

"Really? That's bar~"

"That's barry!" He was joined by a second Irish accent as Ireland and Wales entered.

"Uh… But it was a nightmare…"

"Really?… That's nae so barry…"

"What about, England?…" Wales asked quietly, walking around to the other side of the bed. He gulped, surrounded by strangers and feeling nervous because of it. He had only come to Scotland's room because of the dream. If it wasn't for that he would have remained in his room all day. After all he didn't know anything about the red head. It felt awkward forcing himself.

"I'm not sure… Most of it was blurry…" He mumbled, feeling rather pathetic about what he was saying.

The others just kept waiting for a proper answer. England sighed slightly. Telling strangers about a dream seemed weird but he did supposedly know them. It couldn't hurt to act like they were his brothers for a little while. He even sometimes called them brothers. And when he regained his memory and they turn out to be his brothers; it won't matter anymore.

Still... Telling strange unknown people these private thoughts was embarrassing...

"Well…" He started unsure. "…It was a nightmare of a red haired man and me, I am pretty sure that it was Scotland… being attacked and attacking these three other men dressed in black I think… Or some else might have been happening, it was all blurry. Suddenly there was a lot of pain... Then there was a white light that becomes black…" He trailed off quietly as the other three men stared at him.

To distract himself, he stared at Scotland in turn, watching the bandaged chest slowly rise and fall. Clear drops of condensation had formed on the inside of the plastic mask which supply him oxygen. The heart monitor beeped in the back ground steadily. The consciousness monitor was largely silent; showing that Scotland remained deep in his coma. The sickly food substance moved slowly through the clearly tubing. He tried guessing how long it would take for Scotland to heal from this.

He also wondered who Scotland was once again.

And also why he felt like he should be Scotland instead of this man. Sometimes when he sees his blonde hair, he is still shocked that it isn't a bright scarlet.

"England…" Arthur didn't reply to his name at first, unused to hearing and answering to it.

"England?" North Ireland nudged the blonde back to attention.

He looked around at the faces of the men around him. Wales looked concerned, Ireland looked displeased and North Ireland was smiling cautiously.

Were these the faces of his brothers? Does he even have brothers?

"I wouldnae bother think too much about tha dream. Ye and Scottie fought against each other a lot but ye fought side by side tae."

"Aye. That nightmare could be any point of yer history." England glanced down, feeling disappointed.

"Who attacked me then?… I mean the three men in black…"

"I dunno. Ye kinda have had a long list of people trying ta kill ya." The blonde suddenly looked up in alarm.

"What!" He cried out, glancing at the door.

"Uh."

"Don't people like me?" He asked panicked. He didn't want people trying to kill him! Why would they want to kill him! What did his past self do?

"They dee! Lots of people like ya!"

"Then why are they trying to kill me?" He yelled in panic. Was his life in danger at this very moment?

"Not any more! This was over a century ago! Now a days is very peaceful!" North Ireland yelled back, panicked by England's naturally unhappy reaction to finding out people had tried to kill him.

The English man was standing up, subconsciously getting up after hearing the startling news of possible murder. He was breathing very quickly.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he flinched violently like he was being attacked. He spun to see Ireland, who looked cautious and guarded. It seemed the Irish man was wary of being attacked by the terrified blonde. He also looked rather pale, stressed and exhausted looking. England sat as he felt pressure being increased on his shoulder, forcing him back down.

Arthur was considerably much more calm again. Though he still felt edgy surrounded by these men who could easily be lying. Why did he come to visit this red haired stranger again?

"So no one is trying to kill me at the moment?…"

"Nee. Yer perfectly safe."

His breathing slowed. He soon realised how rash he had acted. He was being silly. He wasn't in danger so he just needed to calm down now. And apologise of course for behaving so… aggressively…

"Sorry about that…"

"Tha's braw. We said some… unsettling things.. Sorry as weel." Wales spoked gently.

"I just don't want to die… I was worried. I couldn't remember if people wanted me dead or not…"

"Of course not, ye haff amnesia. Ye cannae remember anything."

"It was a shock. I never thought about people killing me before." The blonde mused slightly.

"And ya dinnae haff tae, Iggy." North Ireland grinned back.

The men remained for the next half hour before visiting hour ended again.

During that time, the four spoke casually.

England spent most of the time staring at his Scotland, begging for his mind to jolt and for him to remember something. No one had bothered rebandaging the X marks. They didn't need to be since they weren't bleeding but he wished they did.

The X was haunting, reminding him that something was wrong other than his memory.

He noticed that the cut on his cheek was no more healed. He asked about that and Wales looked concerned.

"I dinnae know. It should haff healed by now, even jus' a bit but it still looks so fresh." The Welsh man's warm fingers ghosted over the wound. He examined it careful with blueish green eyes. England blushed, disliking the closeness of the unknown person. He knew that he was meant to know Wales but he didn't. He simply does not remember him.

"Don't you think it is strange that it looks like Scotland's as well?" England pointed out.

Ireland blinked in surprise, peering at the exposed cuts that stretched up Scotland's arms and the one on the cheek. "Fuck, they are tha same!"

"Whit does tha' mean?"

"Two brothers gitting tha exact same injury on tha exact same day in different countries at tha same time."

"This is moore than fate…"

"Even endin' up in tha same hospital."

"That's less fate and moore our boss's deeing, Paddy…"

"Fate…" The blonde mumbled unsure.

What an odd thought.

It had to be more than fate.

This was too weird.

This time England left with the three men though; feeling more exhausted than yesterday and not wishing to stay with Scotland any longer.

He was just a stranger who coincidently appeared in a blurred dream. A stranger in a coma. He did not know the man and it felt weird acting like he did. It just made him more tired...

That night he dreamed again.

* * *

><p><em>He was walking down a quiet street again.<em>

_He suddenly stopped, hearing the low thudding bangs again nearby, still not controlling his bodies movements. His body jolted as it obvious recognised the strange sounds. He looked around confused, trying to pinpoint the location and identity of the bangs. He mentally flinched as a single word drifted through his thoughts, answering one question and bringing a wave of terrifying fear to the surface._

Gunshots.

_Suddenly 3 people, men judging by how they appeared, rushed around the corner. One had a knife while the other two had large bags, bulging slightly. They all wore masks, black clothes and hide their identities. They looked so comically similar to the stereotypical bank robber that it was almost laughable._

_Almost._

_Then he realised, these were the blurry people from his previous dream that suddenly attacked him. This was his memory again but this time, he was seeing the next part._

_The men saw him as they ran._

_"Move out of tha way, ya stupid geezer!"_

_"Din't bother tryin' ta stop us bastard."_

_The blonde couldn't help but think, 'Gladly. Just please don't hurt me.'_

_However his body had different ideas. Rather than side-stepping and letting the strong looking criminal men pass, it threw the newspaper violently at the closest man disorientating him. The robber made a small ooft~ in surprise which was quickly followed by a scream of pain. The black umbrella had been slammed into his face with considerable force._

_He heard a crack and soon blood was gushing from the nose of the robber._

_England heard himself talk in a strange strong English accent. "Sorry, old chaps. I didn't quite hear that since I'm such an 'old geezer'." It felt weird hearing himself speak but not controlling it. Especially when it was so snarky and sarcastic... _

_He didn't consider himself to be someone who would speak in such a snide manner. Then again he didn't consider himself someone to violently attack and give a robber a nosebleed..._

_"What tha fuck?"_

_"Is this dope tryin' ta be a fuckin' hero?"_

_"Din't matter! Just bring him doon before tha police show up." The man with the knife lunged at him and the blonde mentally panicked._

_However his body gripped the umbrella like a sword by the handle and attacked back. It seemed he could fight. How lucky!_

_Though with three men, all armed with knifes, attacking him, a shorter unarmed man, he seemed at a disadvantage. He felt the occasionally burn of cold metal grazing his soft flesh, cutting him shallowly._

_However it seemed he was mainly winning, despite the cuts that were slowly adding up, especially on his arms. So he was a great fighter; especially with a sword. Or umbrella in this case._

_England still moaned mentally at the pain of the knife cuts though, wondering why his stupid body couldn't just let these dangerous people pass. At least it hurts less than yesterday in the dream..._

Knight in shining armour.

_The thought drifted through his mind briefly._

_Was he or had he been a knight of some sort?_

_Before he could guess or finish his thought, the world suddenly blurred again. It sped up like last time; making him feel ike he was having motion sickness._

_A fourth man appeared with a flash of crimson. Scotland! He seemed to be helping though it was hard to tell by how the world drifted in and out of focus._

_The dream world sped up more and suddenly there was an explosion in his ears._

_Agony ripped though his head and he screamed._

_Everything turned the cleanest of whites then into the purest of blacks._

_The voice suddenly spoke clearly again._

_"The corpses shall be switched."_

**(A/N - Lots of people are suspecting the X shape cuts. Lots of people are also suspecting that the robbers or at least one of them is a witch/wizard. Lots of people are also making similar theories. As always - I will say nothing!**

**I have two special call-outs at the moment! First - my favourite recent theory. Banboorain - I seriously loved it when you said that your theory was that a robber used magic to try and change Scotland and England's location and memory but instead switched their minds as well. **

**YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE TO COMMENT ON THE FACT THAT SCOTLAND WAS FOUND IN EDINBURGH AND ENGLAND WAS FOUND IN LONDON!**

**Fantastic job for remembering that fact! Seriously! I thought no one was going to question the fact that these men were found in completely different places. Did no one else notice this or find it odd?**

**Banboorain also had a second theory of the evil organisation but she (I assume you are a she?) also said she did not like that idea. She also complained about the shortness of each chapter. Mwuhahahaha! I shall only reveal information in tiny chunks with small only 1500-ish word sized chapters.**

**Good news - this chapter is 2500ish words and the next chapter is 4000+ words.**

**After that it goes back to being short again.**

**Second call-out to a certain Amnesia fan - STEPHANOOOO. God I love that horror game and I can't believe someone else likes that game and reviewed me.**

** Me and X did a joint Letsplay on it. Mostly it is him playing while I swear, say snarky things, point out perverted moments and criticising X and things to cover up my fear. That game was truly terrifying. I sucked at it as well - I usually play console games so PC games are not my forte. I kept slamming the doors open into my face and I could not grasp the concept of using the mouse instead of a joystick.**

**I only recognised that this guy was an Amnesia fan because of the Pewdiepie reference in his name. I like Pewdewpie's Letsplays as well as others. However I played Amnesia before watching Pewdiepie so what he called Stephano, me and X called Minius in our videos. I expect lots of hate for that later but I kinda don't care. I'm not Pewdiepie so I can call the statue whatever I want.**

**PS - *Brofists back***

**PPS - Pewdiepie's signature move is a brofist but he did not invent it. **

**PPPS - For people who are confused Pewdiepie is a Swedish man who makes his living by filming himself playing games (AKA - making LetsPlays). Amnesia is his most popular series I think. He is a big Youtuber and really famous in gamer circles. He made a bunch of online memes - including Stephano.**

**Sorry for the ridiculously long A/N as well.**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	111. Story 18 Chapter 6

**Black or White 6**

England remained in bed today.

He didn't sleep well again and had still regained no more memory other than his dream. If that was a real memory…

Scotland was still in a coma too according to the nurse.

He worried for Scotland.

A coma couldn't be good; even for an immortal. Having a living body but a dead mind.

North Ireland visited in his room by himself today. He looked like he was forcing a smile again. Just like yesterday and the day before.

"How are you, North Ireland?" He asked politely and formally.

He still didn't know or remember anything about this man yet. He felt awkward with him and the other brothers. They felt like strangers. The Irish man sat down.

"Ah. I'm deign br-braw… I'm d-deeing… b-b-bra~…"

North Ireland trailed off as tears suddenly sprung up.

England jolted at the sight. He shuffled in the bed, watching as North Ireland lifted his hands, trying to wipe away the offending tears that came too quickly. Though Arthur considered this man a stranger; he still felt bad for the man when he cried like this. It reminded him of when he woke up and North Ireland cried then too. He just didn't want this man to be sad for some reason.

"What's wrong?" He asked gently.

"A-Alba is still as-asleep!" He sniffed out.

"Well, he was shot in the head. It might take a while for hi~"

"It's taking t-too long!" The man bawled out. "B-big b-b-brother's been shot in tha h-heed before! But he's alway g-git up agen!"

England sat silently, watching the man weep openly. It seemed he had pent up all this sorrow for the past week and it was finally too much to hold in.

He had merely been the trigger.

"I-It normally only t-takes him two or-or three days b-but… He's hasnae moved in a week! Something m-must be wrong!" He cried out, being swept away by his own emotions. "I m-miss him! I w-want him to c-come back! I j-just want b-b-big brother back! A-Alba!" He half screamed the name, and it came out strangled like he was physically in pain.

England reached out his hand to touch North Ireland, who covered his face as he cried for Scotland to wake up again.

However he stopped just before touching the man. He awkwardly withdraw his hand and placed it on his lap. He stared down at his pale hands, unsure of how to react.

He wanted to comfort the poor crying man but didn't know how or if he even could.

Was he allowed to?

"…I'm sorry North… To me he is just another man in hospital… I don't know what to say to you…" He admitted ashamed. North Ireland just cried louder. England frowned upset.

He had spoken the truth.

Scotland was not a brother to him; he just happened to be an unknown man in a coma.

He didn't know what he could do so he just sat there and waited. North Ireland continued with the onslaught of tears.

"A-Alba! C-come back! I-I miss ye!" England glanced at the white wall.

Why was everything so white?…

If it wasn't and he still had his memories, he wouldn't be so useless. He would know what to say and how to say it. He would understand North Ireland because they would share the same lost of a close brother.

England closed his eyes gently.

It was hard.

Not remembering everything was easy. It was so very, very easy.

But it was the trying to understand people who still did remember that was difficult. It was like he only partly belong in their world and memories of him. He felt misplaced when he was with them.

North Ireland sniffed loudly as the salty waterfall continued.

It was very, very hard.

England sighed softly, making up his mind.

"North Ireland… Do you want to go see Scotland with me?…" He asked softly.

It was hard being with people who remembered him but it was very, very hard to watch them cry.

The man nodded, sniffing loudly, still trying to wipe away the salty trails of water. England pushed himself out of bed, before helping North Ireland to his feet. The auburn man was slightly taller but he leaned on England.

The two slowly made themselves towards the ICU and to Scotland's room.

Wale was the only one there. He had his eyes closed and looked eerily similar to a marble statue as he sat there motionless. Dark marks and bags under his eyes, his cheeks seemed tight and he looked generally tired.

His eyes flickered open when he heard the tell-tale sniffing and hiccuping that pointed to North Ireland crying.

His eyebrows scrunched up in worry when he saw North Ireland's state.

His blue-green eyes seemed tired but still scanned for detail as he examined the entering pair. England found it hard to maintain eye contact with him so he glanced to Scotland butt was shocked to see large blooming bruises spreading across his cheek.

The edges were a painful looking red quickly turning to a deep purply-blue towards the centre. He gave a small gasp at the fresh injuries on the still red head. The bed sheets looked ruffled and the IV was in a different position from the last couple of days.

"Ah… I ken… Alba's nae looking so good." Wales agreed with England, despite he not saying anything.

The blonde nodded slightly, leading the auburn haired man to a chair. They both sat down.

"What happened?…" He asked, patting North Ireland on the shoulder, trying to calm him a little.

"Ireland was a tad too stressed and he couldnae handle it…" Wales reached out and touched the red head's arm.

England remembered Ireland being stressed from when he woke up for the first time with amnesia. He had been tensed like he might snap and attack at any moment. The blonde just didn't think that the man would snap and hurt his own brother.

"It seems that Paddy canae handle it anymoore tae…" North Ireland seemed to sniff loudly on cue.

"And you, Wales?"

"I cannae handle this, not even from tha start, but I haff tae… So I will handle this." The quiet man spoke with an awe-inspiring resolve. Wales didn't seem like the strongest here but he was forcing himself to be. He was trying to keep everyone together.

A seemingly impossible task.

Wales stood up, stretching slightly.

"England, I ken you cannae remember us. We are jus strangers ta ya. Fer all ye ken, we could be pretending ta be yer brothers but yer still here." England blinked in surprise. This man appeared to understand his feelings. "Ya probably dinnae understand our feelings but yer still here. England, ye dinnae need ta feel guilty fer having no memory. Dinnae force yourself."

"So you don't want me to come?"

"Nah, we'll always want ya ta come. We're yer brothers. But we will understand if ye dinnae." Wales stood by North Ireland now, taking his hand and beginning to pull him away gently.

England nodded.

"Okay, thank you…"

Wales did not answer him, instead supporting the Irish man's weight as the man buried his head into the shorter man's shoulder.

"Come on, Paddy… Seamus is in the waiting room… Let's grab some tissues and go back ta the hotel…" The two left quietly and quickly.

England sighed. He didn't know if he was going to come back. He wanted to sometimes but other times it had felt too awkward to be here.

He stood to leave when something fluttered across his eye sight.

He froze as he watched the weird creature stop and rest lightly on Scotland's chest. A mostly nude female with tiny sparkling pointed wings like a butterfly's stood bare footed on the man. Her skin was dark, her pointed eyes were completely white and long dark purple hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall. Her skimpy clothes were made of pale yellow leaves.

She looked inhumanly beautiful and completely unearthly.

England gaped at this unknown creature. He remembered his brother mentioning fairies… Could this be one?

"A-Are you a fairy?" She laughed, her voice being surprising loud and booming for such a small creature.

"Yes."

"Why are you here?"

"I come with a warning."

"A w-warning?" He mumbled. He didn't want a warning...

"Keep your eyes on what's nearby you" She spoke, sending strange chills up England's spine. The blonde was unsure about the meaning but it did sound a little like a threat.

"What does that mean?"

"Keep your eyes on what's nearby you."

He sighed. It was clear she was not going to say what that meant. He watched her as she examined the X cut on Scotland's cheek, glancing at the identical cut on the blonde's cheek.

Suddenly she sighed heavily like she was in pain.

"Are you okay?"

"N-no… Too much iron.. Too much steel… I must leave and go back to nature…" England nodded watching her flutter away, slower than her arrival.

"Keep your eyes on what's nearby you." was the last words she spoke before she vanished.

The blonde wondered while the dark skinned fairy grew so weak from being in the room for only a few brief moments.

_Iron and its derivatives are very poisonous to fairies… Without nature and surrounded by iron and steel, they weaken and die quickly._

The thought passed through his head.

Apparently this was a fact and had nothing to do with him personally. Hence why he could remember this small tidbit.

He sighed and stood again.

He needed to leave.

As he was walking back to his room, he found himself at cross roads in the corridor.

He had never noticed that the paths were cross roads.

Of course, without looking, the paths were cross roads before.

He glanced down one he had never gone down before. Curious and unwilling to return to his room yet, he wandered down it.

The rooms were mainly supply closets and patient's rooms.

Eventually he came across a very different room. It had no glass walls which defined it from the other rooms that had plenty of glass for nurses to glance through at the patients to check up on them. He glanced around to see if any doctors or nurses were looking at him. When he had confirmed that no one was watching he quickly opened the door and silently slipped in.

The room was lit with sickening artificial over head lighting and contained several black and white TV monitors. It seemed to be the surveillance room. He picked up the remote for one of the screens, the one that he recognised the ICU ward in.

He pressed a button and the camera changed. It showed a patient in one of the ICU rooms.

When he pressed it again, it showed a different room, still in the ICU.

He flicked through the rooms, curious to see if there was a camera in his brother's room.

Eventually he came across the red head.

It was strange he could recognise that crimson colour even in black and white.

It was rather boring, watching him through the TV. He just laid there, completely unmoving. His features were slightly blurred on the screen so it was hard making out any of the Xs or the bruising.

Thinking of the bruising, he wondered how it had happened. He knew that Ireland was the culprit but why did he hit Scotland?

He scanned the black remote n his hands for a rewind button. Eventually finding and clicking, he watched the clock on the screen slowly roll back wards.

He appeared on the screen, the Wales and North Ireland. He and North Ireland soon disappeared again and Ireland was suddenly on the screen.

England paused the screen before selecting play. The people began moving and talking silently.

He unmuted it.

"…~ba still asleep then?…"

"Aye, he's nae waking up fer now." Wales confirmed, glancing at the monitor that still showed the brain dead status. England watched Ireland carefully. He looked very high stung, wringing his hands and seeming unable to sit still.

"Why?" He snapped at Wales who flinched in return.

"I don't ken…"

"He should be awake! It has been too long!" Wales remained silent, watching as Ireland got louder and louder. "It should only be a couple of days! A week is too long!"

He stormed up to the bed before stamping away.

"What the fuck is Alba deeing?" He shouted angrily.

England noticed the flash of fear on Wale's face.

"He's nae doing anyth~"

"Why won't he wake up?"

Ireland stomped over to Scotland again, grabbing him by the collar.

"Wake up!" Wales looked alarmed suddenly at the aggressive action.

"Seamus!" He stood and grabbed Ireland by his elbow and tried pulling him off. However Ireland was much stronger and just batted the shorter man away.

England covered his mouth in shock as he watched the monitor.

Ireland was shaking Scotland violently screaming at him. "Wake up! Alba! Stop faking! WAKE UP!"

"S-Stop! He's not faking!"

"He is! Wake up! Git up ALBA! S-Stupid brother!" Wales was trying to pull Ireland away again. Scotland's IV had fallen out and clear liquid followed, spurting off in different directions.

Ireland spun around and pushed the Welsh man down. He slammed into the floor.

Ireland's fist clenched and it was thrown into Scotland's face. The unconscious red head did not react as the knuckles bashed into him a second or a third time.

"Alba! Wake up! We fucking need ya! Whit sort of lousy brother am ye! Ye meant tah be protecting us! Yet ye cannae dee that!" He screamed at the body. "Wake up! We miss ya! Git up alreedy!"

A couple of nurse and security guards were rushing in now. The nurses were trying to sort out the equipment that was being broken around them. The heart and brain monitor were dislocated and the oxygen mask had been ripped away in anger, snapping the band that had kept it in place.

The guards secured both of Ireland's arms and began to drag him from the room. Ireland was still screaming in rage.

"Wake up! Come back! I just want my b-brother back! I m-miss ye! **BIG BROTHER!**"

The door to the room slammed shut, shutting out the angry screams.

England blinked at the scene. It was similar to North Ireland but also so different…

He sniffed slightly.

Huh?

He touched his cheek and was surprised to find dampness.

He was crying?

He placed the remote down, just as Wales was helped up by a doctor.

England just left the tiny room, unsure of why he was crying but feeling once again very exhausted for doing very little.

* * *

><p><em>It was the dream again. He was expecting it by now.<em>

_Starting once again from where it had blurred last time._

_ 3 robbers attacking him with knifes while he fought back with an umbrella. Despite how great he was at fighting, he was getting hurt. However he still was winning the fight. _

_England was still mentally wishing that his body had just let them pass though… _

_The dream wasn't blurring now like last time. He watched Scotland walk lazily from a random ally way._

_ "Git, why are you here?" England found his body talking to Scotland angrily. _

_Now that was odd. Weren't the two brothers?_

_ "Oi, tha's nae very kind, treatin' a helping-hand like a villain." Scotland replied with a scowl. _

_"You are a villain." The blonde quickly retorted, making Scotland grin suddenly. Arthur felt his own body smirk slightly as well. _

_It confused Arthur. Why were they insulting each other then smiling? There relationship must be very complex. He kind of wished he could remember the dynamics behind it so he could understand the conversation between the two better._

_"Weel, at least I'm a kind one." The red head pointed out, walking until he was right by the robbers. The robbers were confused by the red head's appearance and attitude._

_"Oi! Is this dope also tryin' ta stop us as well?" _

_"Crap! We can barely handle this wanker." _

_"Don't worry! _She_ will be here soon!"_

_ "Yeah, let's jus' distract these fuckers until _she_ comes!" The closest robber to Scotland lunged at the red head, slashing the knife forward. Scotland side-stepped the attack, and used the robber's momentum to push him him farther away. The robber stumbled, almost toppling over to the ground. _

_"Gawd, yer gitting rusty. Ye actually let these three eejits cut ye up? How weak…" He muttered the last bit dramatically._

_ "Oh shut up you wanker." England scolded. "If you have time to be criticising me, try helping."_

_ "Tha's why I'm here." Scotland winked cheekily at England who rolled his eyes in return. _

_Scotland seemed in an unusually very good mood noted England - both bodily and mentally._

_ The older one laughed slightly. _

_"OI! Don't ignore us!" _

_Two knifes dived at Scotland's head from two different directions. The red head blinked in surprise, moving his head away. He had not expected the sudden attack from different directions. Though he had dodged the attack, a shallow X was slashed onto his cheek. Thin trails of blood leaked from the wound. _

_"Ha! That's what you get for pretending we don't exist and talking so casually!" _

_"Yeah! Fucking bas~" The robber froze as Scotland turned to glare at him. _

_It was terrifying, seeing fiery green eyes staring so intensely that it felt like they were trying to burn them with his gaze. England mentally gulped, hoping the red head wouldn't turn on him in the dream._

_ "Is he trying to s-scare us?… Well, it's not going to wor~!" _

_A fist slammed into the robber. He fell back. It seems like Scotland's good mood had ended instantly. The punch had restarted the entire fight. _

_Though this time, Scotland was involved. The fight shifted greatly in England's favour. The knifes were no longer reaching England and Scotland remained uninjured as well. _

_"These bampots actually managed a daylight robbery?" _

_"I know. It must be _Scotland Yard's_ fault." Scotland looked irritated at the small jab at him. England mentally smiled suddenly at the joke. _

_ They were winning. _

_His body was right for trying to stop these men. _

_It was going to be alri~ ! _

_Three bangs resounded from behind him. _

_He felt bolts of raging, burning infernos rip through his chest. He tried to scream but his lungs felt too broken. England's body turned to look at Scotland who had stopped fighting and went wide eyed. Those emerald eyes looked full of surprise and pain. _

_It looked like he had forgotten the fight, too focused on the shock that England had been shot in the chest. The red head took a step towards the staggering blonde. _

_The robber behind him takes advantage of his distractedness and jumps at him. _

_England screamed mentally as he watched the man in black run the fine metal blade of the knife across Scotland's throat. The steel dug deeply into the soft flesh, slitting the windpipe and leading to a near instant death._

_"Ahh~" Scotland screamed a small, quiet one as his body flopped forward messily and bloody. Blood sprayed from the quick cut, painting the pavement below him. The last thing the red haired man murmured was, "Eng…la…" _

_"Hah. _A knife makes you scream."_ A female voice spoke behind him. _"_And _your blood sprays out just like your final words." _The female's voice mocked the dead Scotland. _

_England turned his head painfully. His body screamed at him in agony. The metal pellets were still lodged in his body and he was bleeding badly. As he turned, his knees buckled and he was forced onto his knees. He saw a woman now, standing above him, dressed in black like the robbers and holding the gun. She smirked at him. _

_"Fool."_

_A final shot went out. _

_A point blank one to his forehead. _

_The bullet torn into him, through the skull and into the brain._

_England's body suddenly thought, '__Damn… I don't want to die…' He didn't have long to regret it though as his body stopped working and he went brain dead, before he had even hit the ground. The heart beat quickly silenced. Both he and Scotland were dead..._

_..._

_Arthur's current mind sat alone in t__he still body, surround by white. His body and brain had just died. He knew his consciousness should have died too but this was a dream. The physics were different from real life._

_His dream self remained awake inside the corpse. He could not see or hear or feel anything thing though._

_ He was just floating in white light._

_Their corpses shall be switched._

_Their corpses shall be switched._

_Their corpses shall be switched._

_Their corpses shall be switched._

_The voice were suddenly chattering around him busily. It sounded like there were several people instead of just one like he had previously thought._

_As it spoke, the white world which shone so bright that it had to be blessed drained away to a black world that seemed so dark that it must be sacred. _

Their bodies have been switched.

**(A/N - A long chapter and probably the longest there is ever going to be for this mystery story. It does seem like a lot is being revealed and that certain suggested theories are going to be correct but hopefully the next couple of chapters after this will change that and make it more confusing. Consider this chapter the sane before the mystery.**

**The British brothers are not known for emotional control. How they break down is quite different. England drinks and becomes depressed. Ireland becomes unreasonably angry and takes his stress out physically on people. North Ireland, sticking true to be the most child like, usually bursts into tears or on rare occasions gets angry. Wales kinda just freezes and zones out from the world; mentally separating himself from everything. Scotland gets himself drunk and into fights.**

**I bet some people might think this is a lil OOC but I don't think so. Coping with one close family member being basically dead and another one with no memory creates huge balls of stress. I have never been in the family member with a coma or amnesia situation but I have been in the sick and dying family member situation a few times. Depending on your relation to the family member, it can be very stressful and horrible. I've seen people who I was very close with act surprisingly different from the norm when someone dies or is dying.**

**I'm surprised by how many of my readers also love Amnesia or Pewdiepie. Wow - we have so much in common and I didn't even know it.**

**Arenarceus once again has my favourite theory! She deviated from the norm theory of just body switching. She suggested things like the robbers/evil organisation using magic to teleport Scotland to Edinburgh. She even suggested the crazy but unique idea that Scotland was a robber! He was just lagging behind the others. She also continued to say Scotland kills England and the brothers switched the bodies to save England's life.**

**Unfortunately this chapter just burns gaping holes in that theory. I still love her theory so, so much though. Go Arenarceus for your uniqueness - your last theory has been by far the most interesting and coolest one yet.**

**I got hardly any theories last time. I suspect that might be because I didn't ask for any... So here I go now!**

**PRETTY PLEASE SEND ME MORE THEORIES ARE WHAT YOU THINK HAS HAPPENED, IS HAPPENING AND IS GOING TO HAPPEN! I love reading them more than regular reviews! You guys always have such awesome thoughts and ideas.**

**Review please!)**


	112. Story 18 Chapter 7

**Black or White 7**

Arthur woke screaming again.

"AHHHHHHHHH!"

He had just stopped yelling when a panicked nurse entered, switching on the light switch. He was panting with shock and fear. He could feel sweat trickling down the sides of his face, one drop going into his eye making it burn slightly.

Did he just die in his own dream? What does that mean?

He felt a warm hand touch his shoulder and he jumped in shock, gasping.

He turned to see the nurse beside him, trying to calm the blonde.

He blinked at her.

The nurse looked worried as she tried to sooth him. "Are you are okay, Mr Kirkland?"

The blonde blinked again.

Was he okay?

It certainly didn't feel like it.

"Mr Kirkland?"

"Y-yes… I am fine…"

She didn't look very convinced. England forced a smile on his face, which he was sure probably looked like a crooked grimace.

"I'm fine, miss. Really."

She sighed slightly to herself before smiling back. She nodded affirmatively.

"Okay then. Is there any thing I can do for you?"

England paused, looking thoughtful. Parts of his dream drifted back into his head.

Yes, there was something he wanted to see first before he could sleep again.

"Yes, I would like to go visit my brother, Iain Kirkland."

**(A/N - I have decided to post this one so soon after the last because it is basically a change over chapter. It holds no real information and is just incredibly short.**

**So I don't really expect any more theories to arise from posting this chapter.**

**However I am VERY VERY SUPER DUPER happy about the newest bunch of theories! UNlike the beginning when everyone was just guessing the same kind of plot line, people are not giving quite different thoughts on what's going to happen. Gah! It's making me so excited! And it is going along with my original goal of people trying to guess lots of different theories because of the mystery. So I am happy. :)**

**I'm going to give some theorys-I-like shout outs now so this A/N is probably going to longer than the chapter.**

**Miyukichan23 - I love your deep thought process! You are really looking into all the facts. I like how you highlight the fairy's warning go 'Keep your eye on what's near you'. You're the first one to do that. And you doubted the 'realness' of Wales and co as some other people did. But you also became stuck on how like his brother they are acting. I am also impressed that you were the first one to notice the absence of any other countries. No worried America, no gloating/secretly anxious France, no quiet Canada. Then you questioned the doctors's motives which I think only one other has actually done.**

**Arenarceus - Yep you're other theory burned up pretty well with the last chapter. You also said Wales and that might be fake but are too in character. You never know. You were also trying to figure out what will happen when Scotland wakes up or when will Scotland wakes up. And yeah - you might want to sleep. (Gah! I wish I could PM you and chat with you! Also do you have a deviant art? I found someone with a really similar name to you on it - ArenArceus. *trying not to sound stalkerish...*)**

**mooglestookmyheart - Interesting thought about how England was meant but Scotland switched bodies to save his life and therefore conquers fate! That theories shows how loving a big brother Scotland can be.**

**Scottish woman KICK ASS! - They certainly do! I know you didn't post a theory but I loved your review! England dating a Scottish woman. That might come up in a oneshot I am writing for a winner of guess this song. Lol - And it would be funny! And YES! Pictish women also KICK ASS!**

**Yeah - not expecting any new theories or reviews but I still would love some. So I end this LONG A/N with my usual.**

**Review Please!)**


	113. Story 18 Chapter 8

**Black or White 8**

The nurse had been very reluctant to let him go. After it was 3 o'clock in the morning and people were asleep. The nurses would also be very busy, trying to get ICU patients survive the night.

As England walked down the hallways, it was unnaturally quiet and still. The lights in some of the currently unused corridors were switched off completely.

It was eery.

The usual white walls were now coloured black without the lighting.

Black.

Black.

Black.

All here and there, it was all black.

England felt like it matched his situation. His memories were blank, pure white, but his current world was dark, pitch black so he couldn't see the truth.

He was determined to change that though; _black or white_.

England silently opened the door to Scotland's room and snuck in. The blonde switched on the table lamp as the lights were switched off in here as well.

Arthur examined the body of his brother carefully. He was trying to find some evidence to his suspicions.

His eyes kept wandering to the eye catching scarlet hair. It was different from normal ginger hair of humans that was usually a flamed coloured orange.

England glanced at the oxygen cylinder beside the bedded man. It was reflective enough to see a warped, twisted version of a blonde man with green eyes. While it seemed natural that he was a blonde; like he had been his entire life, his hair colour still felt wrong somehow. It felt like it shouldn't be the corned coloured yellow.

When he saw Scotland's hair for the first time a few day ago, he knew what the hair colour should be. It should be a bloody crimson.

England sighed feeling confused by his own feelings. He knew and felt like he was a blonde but his body gave him a different feeling.

Odd…

Should he be blonde or ginger?

He sighed.

His reason for being here was stupid. Because of some repetitive phrase and a weird dream that may or may not be a memory, he had come to a silly conclusion. A repetitive phrase he had not heard at all since the weird dream at that!

England laughed awkwardly. How could he believe that Scotland and himself switched bodies?

That would make England Scotland.

Though it nagged at him. He had amnesia and if he and his brother had switched bodies and he was Scotland, it was possible to be taught that he was someone else. If that were true, he had been taught to be Arthur when he should have been taught to be Iain!

"Hahaha… Taught to be someone… How absurd." He hollowly laughed at his choice of wording in his musings. "You can't be taught to be someone. You are either that person or not."

He shook his head. This was confusing him more. He had come here in hopes of having some sort of great realisation. How laughable. If he hadn't had an epiphany before when visiting Scotland (or maybe England) then why would it change now. He closed his eyes, wishing desperately for the truth and his memories.

Surrounded by the blackness, he thought.

Though it seemed unreasonable to a normal human, body switching being a sci-fi fantasy, for beings who knew about magic, it was possible. With all the strange events, dreams and fairy, it actually seemed likely.

Yes, he and his brother must have switched places. That meant he was actually Scotland in England's body but since he had no memory, he thought he was England. That was the only plausible reason.

Suddenly he felt two bright green orbs burning into him. England's eyes snapped open, feeling paranoid that someone was staring at him. He looked around the dimly lit room frantically, but no one was there and there was no one at the window. It was just him and Scotland.

He paused to wonder why he thought the peeping eyes were green but was too tired and nervous to dwell on the question.

His eyes fluttered shut again as he attempted to rejoin his train of thought. Though by this time, it was beginning to feel like a runaway train...

Suddenly he felt it again.

He _was_ being watched.

He shuddered slightly, trying to tame his paranoia. There was no one in the room!

Just him and his brot~

His eyes shot open again, feeling like he was short on breath. He stared at his unmoving supposed brother. He remained still, unmoving with his eyes closed.

Arthur gulped slightly as he looked at him.

This was suddenly very, very wrong. He should not be here. he had to leave! **NOW!**

Arthur could not explain the sudden sense of panic. A hidden instinct was just subconsciously screaming at him that this place was now very dangerous and he had to run away. It felt almost like a life and death thing.

The blonde stood clumsily and stumbled to the door. He felt a cold sweat break out as he fumbled with the door knob before rip the wood structure open. Once in the hallway, he slammed the door slam and leant against the wood.

His chest was drumming loudly with his speeding heart and he could feel hyperventilation creeping up on him. He needed to calm down. He kept repeating to himself mentally that he was just being silly and paranoid. His mantra helped a little but his subconscious was still screaming at him 'Danger! Beware! Run! Escape! Live!'

He closed his eyes and felt relieved as he felt no green eyes glaring through him.

His eyes fluttered open to notice a nurse give him a nervous glance. He smiled back in reassurance before standing up off the door.

England had come to discover two things today.

One - he and his brother had probably switched bodies so he was probably Iain/Scotland.

Two - He was not ever coming back to this room.

However, England had also missed two things today.

One - the fairy who was fluttering worriedly, watching the country and the room he had just left.

Two - Two small blips on Scotland's brain activity monitor, showing two brief moments of consciousness and a large spike when the door was slammed.

**(A/N - Holy shit - I was surprised by the number of reviews on the last chapter! I was expecting only one or two. Wow - thank guys!**

**I haven't actually been online for the last 5 days because I'm in Amsterdam. I only just found a freebie wifi today. I get back to bonnie, auld Scotland on Saturday though so I can continue writing then.**

**We are getting to the end of this story now. It is still going to be a few more chapters though. I only have the next chapter written and ready to go so I have to finally sit on my ass and write the rest of the story.**

**Since the last chapter was more of a change over chapter I didn't expect any theories but hey you surprised me. So I'll have another fav/interesting theory call out.**

**littlemisssunshine13 - I don't think anyone has said the robbers were fairies before. Or that the female robber was one of the Queens! People have mentioned them being magical like a wizard or a wizard but never a faery. Good theory on the robber's identity. **

**ai-chan-neko-nyaX3 - Whoa that was a long ass theory but I loved reading it! And yeah I sometimes fell primitive for blaming things on the fairies in my stories... Your theory was so amazing deep and complex that I read it twice. I loved it! It was original - saying they switched wounds instead of bodies and then there was the (enchanted) robber's motives for tricking one of the brothers for a powerful fairy. And god - I wish I could rewrite your entire theory and explain in detail why I loved certain parts. How I want to keep this A/N as short as possible so instead I'll recommend that others read her theory.**

**I don't have much to say except for Vaarwel (Dutch for Goodbye since I'm in Holland.)**

**Review Please!)**


	114. Story 18 Chapter 9

**Black or White**

England was dawdling through the ICU ward, only a few doors down from his brother's door as he slowly headed back to his room. He purposely moved at a snail's rate, hoping to take until morning to get back to his room.

However it was only 3:30 so it was going to be a very, very, very slow walk; if it could be counted as a walk at all.

He had stopped to stare at a painting.

There were quite a few paintings dotted around the hospital to make it a more cheerful and beautiful place. In Arthur's opinion, they were not successful. True - it added small areas of brief prettiness and a chance to be distracted by bright colours. But it did not change the overall atmosphere of the hospital.

To many, it was still a scary, sterilised building with a vague cloud of sickness and death hanging over it.

The painting he was looking at was still beautiful though. It was a scene of a garden. In the background, trees lined the grass and the sky was a perfect blue, cloudless.

It was the foreground that England preferred though. Lining the bottom and sides of the oil painting that gave a glimpse into the picturist garden were intertwining roses. Many of the roses were red but white and yellow roses broke up the monotony. England smiled at the flowers, feeling drawn to them. He thought they were beautifully painted but nothing could compare to the real flower.

England glanced at a different flower that had twisted its way into the foreground.

It spiky leaks and purple head named it as a Scottish thistle. The thistle and the rose shared a similar curse, he thought. Both were very beautiful; both were impossible to touch without pain.

The one difference was that the thistle was a counted as a weed.

It was a strange thought and the blonde was not sure where it had come from.

Arthur felt himself smile suddenly, as the painting and thought brought an image to the front of his mind. A young, peppy blonde with an American accent appeared, buzzing about some sort of challenge. America, or at least that is what he thought the strange man was called, retold about how he had to pick one of each British national flower with his bare hands. A daffodil, a shamrock, a thistle and finally a rose.

The man collected the shamrock and daffodil with great ease.

However America had spent 10 minutes trying to remove a rose without piercing his hands on those deadly thorns. He bragged to England about it afterwards, despite having seven small nicks on his hands, saying that he had got the hardest one and now he only had the Scottish flower to retrieve.

Arthur laughed loudly when he remembered America's face at seeing the spiky plant for the first time and realising that the rose's thorns paled in comparison to the deadly spikes that covered almost every square inch of the flower. But America managed to get the flower after almost an hour, his hands bleeding badly by the end.

England smiled kindly at the memory of him having to bandage the idiot's hands while America beamed proudly.

The blonde's eyes widened suddenly.

A memory.

He had remembered something!

Before he could decide if this was a good or a bad thing, a crash came from down the hall. England turned to see half a dozen nurses rush into a patient's room. The blonde gasped as he recognised it as the red head's room.

He ran back hurriedly to the room, moving two nurses a little more roughly than necessary, and forced himself through the door again. He felt faint as his gaze fell upon the scene.

The oxygen tank was loose from it's holder, the metal cylinder still rolling around from being knocked about, and the mask that was attached to it was tossed aside, the plastic being cracked now.

The clear IV bag was burst from the tubing being pulled too hard and ripping a hole in the plastic. The salty solution was splashed all over the floor. The bag that had contained the nauseating food substances was also on the floor along with its holder, slightly torn judging by the thin trail of the yellow gunk. The tube was still leaking some of the food.

The crash had obviously come from the bed. The large heavy metal bar bed frame had been knocked over; the rails on the edge of the bed bent downwards as if down by some great force or pressure. The bed covers were ripped back from the bed messily and thrown to the side. Amongst the scrunched up sheets were small drops of red; assumedly little bits of blood from the IV being removed badly.

And there, lying beside the bed was...

No one.

The red haired man was gone.

Scotland had gone missing.

**(A/N - Wow. Who saw Scotland's disappearance coming? Be honest! I bet that surprised you.**

**I decided to post this story today because... IT'S MY (and France's) BIRTHDAY! Taadaa~ I am finally 18 and legally allowed to drink whisky in pubs now.**

**When I was younger and much more gullible, I visited Paris, France about several times on my birthdays. Since the 14th of July is an important date in France as it's the anniversary of the beginning of the Republic of France, they have huge fireworks there each year. My parents had convinced me for the longest amount of time that the fireworks were for me. I used to feel so happy that Paris celebrated my birthday like that. Then I found out about the storming of Bastille and the actually reason for the festivities.**

**Anyway - I didn't go to France this year. I am in Elie in Fife (somewhere in Scotland) which also has a fair on my birthday. I didn't go very far for my 18th birthday since I went to Amsterdam last week with my friends.**

**There were a couple of good theories but nothing outstandingly new or unique compared to past chapters. The most interesting one was about Maeve trying to get into England's pants.**

**Give me some new theories since I thought this chapter should stir up some cool thoughts! THEORIES PLEASE!**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


	115. Story 18 Chapter 10

**Black or White 10**

England stared wide eyed at where the red head had disappeared. The whole scene seemed overly violent; like either someone had purposely broken the room or there was a struggle. He glanced around the room wildly. Where was his brother? The room was clearly devoid of the red head but there was no way he could have left.

He was brain dead for a start!

Then there was the fact he had not exited via the door, as someone would have seen. The only other possible exit was the window but it was locked shut.

Though a worrying spider web like series of cracks had spread through out the panes. Blood trickled from the centre of the web but the smashed glass had remained in place. No one had left through that window; though someone had probably punched it.

People were speaking around him but all he heard was a light buzz. It was only when a nurse forcefully pulled him from the mess that his senses returned to him. He turned to the female, his eyes feeling too wide. He felt terrified. She looked worried as well, already talking though the blonde had missed the start. "~fraid that your brother may have been taken. You need to return to your ro~" He tuned her out after that.

Taken? His first though had been that his older brother had just merely walked out. It wasn't uncommon of him. The blonde remembered that the man would always leave rather than stick around after being beaten down. The worse recent case of this fleeing was after the bar fight between Scotland and America in April.

A pride thing, Arthur assumed.

England still had trouble believing that the man had been basically kidnapped.

The nurse had left him sometime during his turbulent thoughts. It was only after he realised the nurse had left, that he also realised he had remembered the last 18th of April fiasco.

Another memory.

He shivered from a imaginary chill and spun on his heels.

It was there again.

The presence of violently green eyes, staring right through him. He edged away from the room, glancing around for the eyes or the person who owned them.

This was worse than before!

He tried to move steadily.

The phrase 'If you act like prey and run away, they will act like predators and chase you.' seemed quite important for some reason. The thought spurred a memory.

* * *

><p><em>England sat on a tree stump, his teenage body lanky and sore all over. An elf named Roe was bandaging a large claw scratch on his arm. As he wrapped the cloth, he scolded the young blond. <em>

_"England, how many times has the Queen told you not to approach the Unseelie court! And how many times have we all told you how to act around them! Run and they will chase! Flee and they will hunt you down! It is their nature!" The elf gave a harsh tug on the bandage to tighten it some more. _

_"No matter what, you must act calm and unafraid or else they will attack! If you act like prey, they will act like predators!" The teenaged England nodded, sniffing slightly from the tears. He remembered being relieved that someone had found him and protected him from the Black Angus who had been chasing him, snarling and growling as it slashed out._

* * *

><p>The memory had come very suddenly and surprised him. The blonde gulped, remembering the feeling of terror as the creature closed in on his fleeing past self. The feeling and fear of being hunted. It was the same now, though he was older and attempting to follow the advice of being calm and confident. He knew it was silly. However the feeling of being hunted wouldn't leave him.<p>

A large shadow suddenly moved at the corner of his vision and his resolve shattered.

And not because the nurse had ordered him or because his brother had disappeared or because he was tired and wanted to go to bed, but because he felt like something was stalking him, he turned and ran for his room. It was childish to believe that being in his room will protect him but the urge to return to the illusionary haven was overpowering.

He felt restless and nervous as he darted from the ward. He looked in the direction of his ward, realising he would have to pass through unlit hallways which seemed much more dangerous and ominous than before.

His mind screamed at him to not go down it.

It also screamed not to look back.

It screamed for him to keep running from this unseen enemy.

His mind just screamed.

_'AHHHHHHHHHH!'_

He gulped, closing his eyes briefly as he turned and begin to run down one of the unlit corridors. The blackness was squeezing in on him. His eyes opened and he felt like the darkness was trying to choke him.

He skidded to a stop suddenly as something glinted just down the corridor from him. There was a humanoid figure in front of him, hidden mainly by the blackness.

The glint came again.

The person in front of the blond was holding something sharp, shiny and probably metal. The light it reflected was dull in the dark corridor due to the light source being far away at the other end of the hallway. The sharp object moved slightly, bouncing another ray of light. It didn't look like a very big object.

England looked from the thing to examine the being holding it. He wanted to know what his chaser's intention was and assess how threatening the person was acting. It became clear by the silhouette that it was a man. However the more England squinted through the darkness, the less sure he was of the man's build. At first he had appeared quite tall and board shouldered but now…

The edges were somehow blurring.

One minute he seemed taller than the blonde and the next, the blonde was looking down on him. The man's head lulled slightly which alerted England to the fact this man had his eyes completely shut. Was he sleep walking?

The man's outline shimmered again and the hand holding the sharp object twitched. Another mental image of an memory came.

* * *

><p><em>England was holding a small metal rod with a sharp blade on the end. It was a scalpel. <em>

_Meanwhile, wood, water and explosions sprayed up around him as a battle raged on. He could feel sweat trickling down his face, his uniform torn from sharpel shards and other bullets. He was trying to save this man's life with just a basic medical scalpel._

_However the stubborn man just batted him and the surgeon away, saying he is fated to die soon from the grave injury. Instead he ordered for lemonade and watered wine after complaining about being too hot and thirsty. The surgeon fanned him now as sweat began to form on his forehead._

_The blonde once again, tried to reason with the dying man. If he could just somehow remove the bullet from his spine..._

_The scalpel was taken gently from him by weak hands. The man smiled, his one eye looking kind yet unwavering._

_"You can do nothing for me. I have but a short time to live. My back is shot through." He said._

_As the battle raged on above deck, the man continued giving orders, occasionally demanding for a man named Hardy._

_About a hour later, Admiral Nelson died._

* * *

><p>The memory faded away.<p>

However he could now recognised the dangerous object in the man's hand.

A scalpel.

Probably stolen from the hospital when the staff were distracted by Scotland's disappearance. The thought of his brother made something click in his mind. Though, the man's form seemed to be favouring the shorter shape more and more now, when he did return to his original taller state, he did look a lot like the missing red head.

The man had looked up slightly now as if hearing his thoughts. It felt like he was staring right through England despite having his eyes being shut.

The colour of his hair was near impossible to distinguish in the low lighting. However it did almost look like it was shifting shades slightly along with his form.

England gulped taking a small step back.

This man was dangerous said his instincts.

This man could be Scotland said his hopeful side.

This man is slowly bringing back you memories said his mind in the back ground.

And it was true.

Flashes of history that would be impossible for a human to remember were starting to tickle out of his subconscious, making his head ache slightly. As England started a second step back, the man smiled and the blonde froze.

It was terrifying.

The scalpel wielding man standing in the middle of a dark corridor was grinning ear to ear manically, his teeth flashing in the darkness. And it wasn't just any grin. It was an all too familiar one. And it scared him.

Only two smiles have ever actually scared him. One was Russia's who strangely innocent yet tense smile addled with the angry and murderous purple aura that sometimes oozed from it. He shuddered mentally at the new memory.

However it paled to this horribly familiar smile that belonged to someone very close to him.

Scotland.

And the grin itself was terrifying - wide, pointed teeth showing menacingly, cruel looking and straight out of a horror slasher film. North Ireland had once rightly dubbed it 'Scotland's Slasher Smile' he remember casually in the back of his mind.

The sinister smirk seemed made for the red head's lips. His canine teeth were longer than a normal human's, not elongated enough to be compared to a vampire's or a wolf, but long enough that if he flashed a toothy grin, a few people would notice them. It gave him a demonic quality that was hard to replicate by ordinary people.

Adrenaline was pumping through England's veins now.

That smile was never good. It always, always led to something very terrible. Horrendous acts were done while the man wore that smile. Demon was a wholly appropriate word for Scotland when he smiled this way.

England felt frightened at the flood of memories that seemed to bubble from the image of that sadistic grin. And he felt very frightened for facing it again. Even if there was a possibility that this was not Scotland he was facing.

The changing form and height looked turbulent for a moment and the hair colour just could not settle. It rested for a couple of beats longer on the taller silhouette before fading to the shorter one again and staying there for longer. The moment that he was the taller one though, England's mind flitted to Scotland's figure again.

Was the man Scotland?

The smile certainly belong to him.

Without England's permission, a hush whispered softly fell from his half closed mouth at the thought of his missing brother.

"Scotland…"

Then the world shattered.

**(A/N - Yeah, it must feel like I abandon my readers at times. Sorry about that but with my new job, I have hardly any time for anything anymore. They have been bundling on the hours which is delaying EVERYTHING!**

**I mean I go to work, then I get home and fall asleep immediately, only to wake up the next day to go straight back to work! My total free time in a day is about 20 minutes when I am getting ready for work! It's tiring but at least I make some money.**

**To be honest, this is not the complete chapter I had in mind. This chapter was going to be WAY longer and have way more plot but with my lack of time to even sit down and write, I have decided to split the chapter in two. **

**And also - To SarcasticCynicalNinja - I have started writing your one shot. I'm about half way through it by now but it still might take ages since I get one day off a week. And ss desperate as you get, I just don't have any real time to write. If you want, you can happily complain to my bosses. (Joking - please don't. My mum already almost got me fired!)**

**And - To MisakiArashi - I am so sorry but I have not even started your one-shot! I have planned it all out and stuff and I am very ready to write it but... Again my work is murdering my social life and writing time. Brutally. And without mercy.**

**I'm not going to say much about this chapter - I'll just let you guys interpret it however you want.**

**I will mention Scotland's teeth though. Nearly every picture I see him in, he has these cool canine teeth. Not too long like a vampire but longer than the norm. ****It can be perfectly normal to have slightly bigger teeth than average (just like having big hands or a big nose ect.) and to be honest I kinda think they suit Scotland's slightly animalistic nature. I mean I absolutely LOVE seeing pictures of Scotland grinning evilly. He has a perfect slasher grin! It's terrifyingly awesome! **

**So I added that here.**

**I also included some facts about Mr Admiral Nelson in the story. He was the perfect English man. On his death bed and he's still ordering people around and demanding for some lemonade.**

**A couple of reviews I want to shout out to - **

**Azure151 - Gah, you still remember the teapot! :D That made me happy. I loved him as this weird minor character. He will definitely be coming back btw.**

**Arenarceus - That is a deep theory actually. England creating a fake life and a fake world where he is Scotland. Just because he wanted to be the oldest. That is an amazing theory. And original too.**

**Set - Since you mentioned you are a quiet reader, I feel kinda nervous now. Like I might scar you back into hiding or something... I feel like I'm trying to not to scar a shy mouse away. Then I probably will and I will have to tempt you out with some cheese or a new chapter or something. NOT THAT YOUR A SHY MOUSE OR ANYTHING! I just have these weird mental images! Anyway - That's actually not the reason why I picked out your review (it's the reason why I'm nervous though). **

**I just loved your line of thought and questioning. And yeah I did just blow all those theories away. I'm pretty sure no one has any clue what is happening now. And Happy ****(late) ****Birthday to you too.**

**EDIT: You may have noticed that I designed and drew a cover for WABWAB. It kinda got me thinking as well... Has anyone drawn any fanart? Just curious. I would really, really love to see it! Please tell me!**

**And - Thanks to all the people who wished me a Happy Birthday!**

**And - Thanks for all the reviews!**

**I'll stop trolling you with my A/N and actually start on the second part of this chapter!**

**PLEASE REVIEW AND TELL ME ANY NEW THEORIES!)**


	116. Story 18 Chapter 11

**Black or White 11**

Then the world shattered.

The stranger's eyes burst open at the mention of the taboo name. The light green eyes sparked insanely as they stared up at England.

England's eyes had widened in terror as the other man's skin had cracked like porcelain and exploded into nothing, leaving a lower layer behind.

The sight of it had distracted him from the tingling that had travelled along his own skin.

The figure who had been left in front of England was the shorter version, still grinning wildly with large blood red eyes now. England took a step back, feeling lanky and too tall compared to his normal self.

Missing information was flooding his brain.

He really was England, Arthur Kirkland. He had been alive for so long and seen so much. He was remembering everything!

He was England!

Not Scotland at all!

And he could remember Scotland!

Scotland and all his brothers!

And just everything!

It was shocking how much of an effect the soft uttering of a taboo name could have. England felt like his mind had been blown up. But despite the return of all his memories, he was still plagued by fear.

England attention was forced back onto the stranger as the man lunged forward violently, sweeping the scalpel in a low upwards arc. He jumped back, regaining his balance after stumbling slightly. His legs felt way too long. The terror he was feeling spiked, feeling terrified by the man's sudden, violent actions.

He blinked in surprise as he could see the attacker much more clearly. The darkness was still there, the blackness still hiding everything, but now England could pass that better. The mysteriousness that the darkness held was greatly reduced, and he could see almost clearly in the dark.

The short man with the scalpel was wearing only a pair of scrub trousers, tied tight around his slender waist. His skin was slightly flushed. The blonde spiky hair hung messily, some of it sticking up in a weird bed head. He had thick eyebrows, that topped large crimson eyes that were suddenly full of fury. It was unsettling to England because he easily recognised the figure now.

It was him.

It was his own body. A man who looked just like England! Though with horrible red eyes instead of his normal light green.

England had noticed all this in about a second, just barely enough time before the blade was swung down again, gripped inhumanly tight.

England avoided this blow a lot less clumsily than last time but this time the cut of the blade had been much closer. He gulped in fear, the threat on his life increasing the fear. The person in front of him was highly skilled but also just cutting blindly and in rage.

Arthur knew he had to get away now. This man in front of him was very dangerous, angry and had a weapon. But he needed to look to see the closest exit route but to do that would require removing his eyes from the crazy man with the knife. Luckily, some instinct had catalogued the surrounding area, giving him a fairly good mental map of the corridor.

_'Turn 30 degrees and run fast!'_

His body obeyed quickly, taking advantage of the attacker's brief pause to change his grip on the weapon. He headed back towards the lit up area of the hospital. He needed to find somewhere safe. The man was obviously targeting him and obviously inhuman, so going to a nurse or other normal human would simply in danger them.

He remembered his amnesiac self trying to return to his bed room. Though it had been an unreasonable thought created through his own terror, England pondered it slightly. The door had a lock on it and a phone. He would be able to delay the pursuer enough to call one of his brothers or something.

First though, he had to escape his chaser and find a new route to his room. Since he only ever went the same way each time, he didn't know any other way and trying to navigate this strange place would be difficult. Especially with a murderous psychopath hot on his tail.

Foot steps were sounding behind him now as the attacker started to run after England.

Arthur took a sharp right, sprinting faster and faster.

England ploughed through the memories of the last couple of days, trying to think of a way to bypass the attacker to the room. He desperately remembered seeing a fire exit two doors away from his room. If he could find a way outside, he could easily circle the building (avoiding the maze of hallways) and get to his room safely.

He need an exit!

England made a left followed sharply but another left. The footsteps behind him faded slightly but never completely disappeared. He was faster than the pursuer. England could tell by the sound of the bare flesh hitting a hard surface that the man was barefoot.

His eyes scanned the white walls for a door.

There was none along this stretch of hallway, just whiteness. Where were the fire exits?

Where, where, where?

Here and there, it's all white.

He made a right.

This hallway led to a ward, the walls lined with windows and door into patient's rooms. A ward meant that there was at least one fire exit for the patients to use when there was an emergency. It was just finding it that was the issue.

He stumbled to an abrupt stop as a nurse stepped out of a patient's room and into his path. She looked startled at him, obviously not expecting a man to running about so early in the morning. He looked down at her, realising how short she was compared to how tall he was. Which was strange considering he usually wasn't that much taller than most people.

England was breathing a little heavily, but he wasn't too exhausted from the sprinting yet. He was aware that his cheeks were probably a little pink though.

"Where's the exit?" He asked.

He knew he must have sounded very hurried. She was staring up at him with her mouth open. The nurse seemed to be gaping at his appearance in shock. Especially the top of his head for some reason, at his hair. She finally turned her head and pointed down the corridor.

"There."

The footsteps were getting louder again.

Closer and closer.

The man who looked exactly like him was catching up again. England did not question his suddenly good hearing, assuming that fear and adrenaline was increasing his senses. He jogged down the corridor, frantically turning his head in all directions, trying to see where this door was before the man entered the ward. He couldn't see it though! He couldn't see it!

"Here? Where? There?" He shouted out, knowing he sounded panicked.

The footsteps were so much louder now. The man must just be right outside the ward! He needed to find this exit now.

"Oh, it's that way." The nurse called back, her voice fading as he ran farther and farther down the gleaming white hallway. If only that man's footsteps would fade into nothing as well.

Finally he saw a green door marked with a faintly glowing 'Fire Exit' sign.

He reached for the bar, desperate to get outside quickly.

However he stuttered to a stop seconds later.

He blinked.

He could see his reflection in the glass panel in the door. Against the blackness of outside, he could see his appearance.

His _new _appearance.

He was quite tall, very pale skin, thick eyebrows and vivid blood red hair. He gasped slightly at the shock and horror of the fact he now looked exactly like Scotland. In fact he was Scotland! He was in his older brother's body! That meant that the person chasing him was his own body! Not just a look alike! And if he was in Scotland's body then Scotland must be in his body.

As if on cue, a blonde suddenly rounded a corner, his bare feet sliding slightly on the floor. The scalpel was still in his grip. He lunged forward, quickly gaining distance up the hallway and towards the in-shock England.

The now red head had no time to process the shocking news that he and Scotland had switched bodies.

He slammed his weight into the fire exit bar and forced the stiff door to fly open.

The freezing night air slammed back.

It didn't feel as cold as he expected. Scotland's body was used to a slightly colder climate though so that helped.

He turned to the right and ran along side the building, hoping it was the right direction to get to the fire exit by his room. Small stones and rocked crunched loudly under his feet. Seconds later, a second set of rustling footsteps joined his as Scotland left the ward to follow him.

The gravel is noisy.

There was no street lights on this side of the building. With no light, the entire place was blanketed with darkness. Normally it would be impossible for England to see anything but Scotland's eyes seemed slightly better in the darkness than his. It was quite helpful in such complete blackness. It was shocking how little light and colour there was. The darkness made it more difficult, as he already didn't know where he was. And everything was just black!

Black, black, black!

All here and there, where?

He turned around the corner of the building, wondering where he was now in comparison to his room's location.

Wherever, who knows?

Arthur felt so lost and terrified in the dark night being chased by his crazed brother. He could still hear Scotland chasing him, the sound of bare feet scraping up stones. Arthur was thankful for his shoes. The red head jumped over a low bush, thankful that Scotland's eyes were good enough to see it in this dense darkness. He had been avoiding lots of things hidden in the night, thanks to the body he was in.

He heard a small crash and rustling of leaves as his chaser tripped on the plant. England knew that if he was in his own body, seeing at night would be impossible for him. His eyes tended to be better in the daytime; the very opposite of Scotland who complained when it wasn't cloudy enough to keep the sun from blinding him. Very bright, sunny days filled with sunshine always bothered his older brother's eyes in his memories. He always preferred evenings, dusk and the night time.

Which raised the very good question of how the manic blonde was able to follow him so well in the dark. England knew that Scotland could probably barely see a foot in front of him but somehow he was able to keep up.

In fact, the sound of the gravely footsteps were getting louder now.

He was catching up!

The red head crashed around a corner, panicking now. The small stones scattered in his haste, hitting the wall of the hospital and the surrounding ground. The pitter patter of the rocks was lost on him though as the blonde behind him also hurtled around the corner. Scotland was gaining quicker and quicker now. He was so close. Only mere metres behind him.

The footsteps behind were so loud now.

Arthur almost cursed.

That's how Scotland was able to follow him despite being blind. The gravel is noisy. Every step he takes makes a sound which gives his position away. The blonde didn't need to see if he could hear.

He rounded another corner, sprinting at top speed. He was surprised by how much easier running became with really long legs.

England squinted through the darkness for anything that might looked like the outside of his ward. He recognised the shape of the building here. It was strange to see it from the outside but he was sure that this was the same shape of the ward he had lived in for the last couple of days. Now he needed to find the fire exit. The blackness extended along the unbroken stone wall, no fire exit in sight.

Oh there's nothing to see.

Just the stones of the wall. The door must be on the other side of the ward.

But now he knew where he was going. There was only two more corners and a short dash until the fire exit! Then he will be at his room, able to contact someone to help him.

This way, that way, over there.

He gets around the corners, feeling breathless as the terror and the running began to takes its toll. This fear was beginning to exhaust him. He already felt so tired from regaining all her memories and discovering he was in Scotland's body. However, the fire exit is in sight now!

Finally!

A pebble hits the back of his leg, being kicked up by the bare feet that were chasing him. The crunching gravel behind him was so, so close now. The blonde must be right on his heels by now. He reached the door, yanking it open in one swift movement and turned left towards his own room. He heard bare feet hit the plastic floor mere seconds after his own. He wanted to turn around and see how close Scotland was but knew that doing so would probably get him caught. He got to his room, quickly opening the door before slamming it shut.

However a foot got stuck in the door way.

England's emerald eyes widened in horror as the bare foot, bleeding badly from small cuts and covered in dirt and small stones kept him from closing the door. The bloodied foot refused to budge as England leant his back on the door more, trying to force Scotland to retract his foot. Suddenly a hand grabbed the door's edge and began to push back.

The red head's body was stronger though that the shorter blonde's so the door did not open anymore. England stood there with his back to Scotland and the door, praying that someone would come and save him. He was terrified of his murderous brother living in his body, trying to get into his room. He could feel Scotland just behind his back, with only a wooden door separating them. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out this nightmare and his brother. If only Scotland would move his foot!

"Ohh. Won't ye turn aroond?" It came out as a soft whisper.

England shivered in fear, opening his eyes to glance at the gap in the door. It sounded strange, hearing his voice being spoken in a foreign accent. He could recognise his fingers, gripping the door tightly.

Suddenly the other hand appeared, with the scalpel, and the red head jumped away from the door. Thinking back on it, that was a stupid move as nothing was stopping Scotland from getting in now. The door exploded open, revealing the blonde standing there, half naked, bleeding and glaring with monstrously red eyes, instead of green.

England had lost balance with the force of the door being opened. He fell forward onto the bed. The red head could see the shadow on the sheets from the man in the doorway being cast on the bed. The shadow became bigger as the man moved closer. England shivered in fear as he felt the bed's mattress depress from the blonde climbing on the bed with him, basically straddling the taller man.

"Ohh. Won't ye turn aroond?" Scotland spoke again with England's voice.

The red head pushed himself up slightly and began to turn his head and body slowly, twisting underneath the other's weight so he would eventually face the man with the scalpel.

"Ohh. Won't ye turn aroond? Ohh. Won't ye turn aroond? Ohh. Won't ye turn aroond?" He chanted as England turned to face his older brother.

When he was finally faced Scotland, the blonde was stretching up, both hands gripping the shining scalpel tensely as it was held high in the air. The sharp metal blade glinted in the dimly lit room. Scotland was smirking cruelly, watching the fear cross the trapped man's face. The scalpel hover dangerous. He suddenly broke out into an almost sweet smile.

And then the blade dropped.

And then England screamed with Scotland's voice.

**"AHHHHHHHHHH!" **

He closed his eyes, not wishing to see where the knife would hit.

**(A/N - Gosh, I can't tell if I wrote this quickly or not. Well I wrote it anyways.**

**It's a big revealer chapter too. But there are still many mysteries that need to be figured out. Post any new theories!**

**I don't really have much to say. **

**I did have an idea though. I was think of making a PV with pictures from this story to the song that this based on. It would follow the rough story line of this, though some events would be in a slightly different order because this didn't follow the song perfectly. I'm not good at drawing though, and it takes me ages and ages to draw anything.**

**TELL ME MORE THEORIES!**

**REVIEW PLEASE!)**


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